She's Gonna Break Soon
by aprimavista
Summary: We're all fighting a battle, if for no other reason than to prove we're strong enough to win it. Sharpay centric. troypay
1. Ice

a/n: this is a continuation of my one shot Scenestealer and although it'd be nice if you read and reviewed it, it's not necessarily imperative to read it first (but it does give a little insight to my portrayel of Sharpay). thank you to everyone who reviewed Scenestealer, this is dedicated to you, and especially to TheEquivalentOfTroysSharpay who convinced me to keep going and A Dawn Delivery, who helped make this into what it is now.

disclaimer: don't own HSM. This disclaimer applies for all future chapters. I own nothing, no characters, songs, etc. unless otherwise stated.

**song & title credit: She's Gonna Break Soon - Less Than Jake**

* * *

_With so many problems in her life, it just comes as no surprise_

_She's gonna break soon, gonna break soon, she's gonna break_

"Hey!" you shout as the song is abruptly cut off. "I was listening to that!"

"Yeah well, I don't want to listen to your angsty rock crap."

"Like your bubbly pop shit is any better? My car, my music."

"Then maybe I should just ride with Gabriella. I'm sure _she'd_ let me pick my own song."

You almost have to pinch yourself to see if you're dreaming because you know what you're seeing can't be real. That smug, self-assured smirk that always seems to find its way to your face is flawlessly reflected on your twin's. He doesn't know the gravity of what he spoke, but he knows he's won.

The Scenestealer is, not surprisingly, a sore subject for you. Unconsciously you take your right hand away from the steering wheel, bringing it to your pocket. Beneath the velvet fabric of the pocket rests that stupid photo, that stupid photograph of six people who know nothing about you.

A Britney Spears song from the 1990's plays on the radio and for a moment, just a moment, you want to speed up and not turn at the forthcoming curve in the road. You can hear the crash of metal on the cement barrier echo in the depths of your mind. Then, the moment is gone. You're unhappy, not suicidal. Or a murderer for that matter.

You cringe as the song reaches one of its high notes and think of how perplexing people would find this situation. Your favorite color is pink, you constantly wear glitter, and you're always color-coordinated with your twin. Yet, you detest the pop music your school thinks you worship. How perplexing, indeed.

_Just another one of their damned pre-conceived notions_, you think. When it comes to you, it seems they're always wrong. How amusing you find it to be that all of your classmates want to "break free" of stereotypes, yet they're extremely quick to label everyone around them. _Fucking hypocrites._

Even more cringe-inducing than the popstar's sad attempts at range, is your brother singing right along, knowing every lyric. You wonder if he fits into the mold everyone has him in. Part of you believes it to be true, yet you know he could be hiding just the same as you are. _Oh how dysfunctional the Evans family appears to be._

One day, you think wistfully, you'll all break free.

---

You tiptoe into your house quietly, careful not to wake your parents, you know they're extremely light sleepers. As Ryan behind you trips on the carpet you turn around and give him a glare that clearly translates into 'Watch where you're going, idiot.'

It's only midnight but you're exhausted and would like nothing more than to curl up under your hot pink duvet and slumber peacefully. Sleep is the only time you ever really are peaceful anymore. You think your classmates would laugh if they found out you're going to bed so early on a Saturday but honestly, all of this acting is really wearing you out. As you give a short wave goodnight to your brother (you can't risk anything else) you think it's a bit ironic that you're the one ready to doze off from all of your acting when the Scenestealer herself was the lead in the play tonight. But alas, your acting is on a completely different scale.

Sitting at your vanity you slowly begin take out the half updo your hair is done in, the half updo Gabriella loved just _oh so much._ You wrinkle your nose in disgust as you think about your response to her compliment. _I bet it'd look great on you._ What the hell were you thinking, you wonder. Why instigate, it's only encouraging a friendship you don't want (or need) from Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.

You're dragging your gold brush, a fancy 'S' inscribed on the back, through your blonde locks when you hear the door open. Ready to bite your twin's head off for making unnecessary noise, you're startled when it's your mother you see standing in front of the now closed door. As she stands there with her perfect posture and couture nightgown you're reminded of how she was your rolemodel when you were little. You were in awe of her grace and beauty, but now you know better.

"So dear," she begins, voice dramatic and pronounced in a way reminiscent of Ms. Darbus. "How did that play ever turn out?"

"It was okay, it would have been better if-"

"If you and your brother had been selected, I know, you needn't tell me. I still cannot believe you let that new girl take your place. Those productions are your domain, that school is your domain, did you tell her that?"

"Yeah mom-"

"Yes, mother," she corrects. She's always been ready and more than willing to correct any mistakes you make.

"Yes mother. I told her but-"

"_However_, she ran off and got the whole school on her side, Troy Bolton included," she interrupts for the third time in your minute long conversation.

"How did you-"

"Parents talk Sharpay. Honestly, how could you let her do that? You all had tryouts, so why on earth was she picked?"

"I don't know mother, I don't know! Okay?" you say, voice rasing accompanied by a roll of your eyes. If anyone had walked into your room at that moment in time they'd find you as only a defiant child, seemingly carelessly applying make-up remover to your face as your mother stands behind you with her hands on her slim hips.

You don't think it's fair that she's gone so often, and when she returns all she ever does is bully you. She doesn't need to work, you're father makes enough money with just his job, but you know she enjoys being away so often. You don't even really know what it is that she does. Something about interior designing, or some crap. You're not quite sure why that includes travel, but apparently it does.

The play's been over for months now. As predicted, Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez rule the school as the hottest couple since "Brangelina." It was hard enough to deal with everything as it happened, but reliving it is almost torture. It should have been you, a thought not unfamiliar to you, crosses your mind.

"Well you must have not been good enough. I will call Dracel in the morning, it's all too obvious you need more voice lessons. Being my child one might think you would have inherited some of my natural gift, the case does not seem to be so."

As you sit there in silence, for a fleeting moment you'd like to turn your head down in defeat, you know everything she's saying is true. Instead, that familiar smirk spreads on your lips. You'll never give her the satisfaction of seeing you falter. You remember the last time you did so, it was your tenth birthday.

You see the scene clearly as if it was only yesterday; as you excitedly threw your arms about in an exclamation of joy at the present you had just unwrapped, you knocked over your cup of fruit punch strait onto the expensive oriental carpet. She berated you so calmly and softly your friends never even realized you had gotten in trouble. You spent the rest of the night locked in your room.

"So where were you tonight?"

"At the movies, but you knew that."

"Don't underestimate me, Sharpay. Who do you think I am?" You stay silent, your brown eyes never faltering from the intense stare of your mother's icy jade ones. You're waiting for her to continue, you've still got a couple minutes to go before she's fully done ripping you to shreds. You know this from experience.

"Of course I knew, but I am also aware, however, the movie ended at ten o'clock. Now it being a quarter after midnight, I am all too eager to hear of your whereabouts for the last two hours."

You brace yourself as you deliver your next answer. Some may think it'd just be easier to lie in this situation, but you know better. For some reason your mother has always been the only one to see through your acting.

"I was at the diner with some friends." You almost choke at the last word.

And there it is, what you've been waiting for: the shrill, empty laugh that would make a weaker person cower. "I see. Would these _friends _happen to be the ones who stole the roles that rightfully belong to you and your brother?"

You nod.

"You went out with them? You consider them friends? What is wrong with you Sharpay? Do you fully appreciate the gravity of what you are getting yourself into? Jesus, encouraging a friendship with people who disrespect this family.

"I am perfectly aware of your selfishness and while it's unbelievable you would want to sabotage your own position, it is completely vulgar that you are okay with sabotaging your brothers as well. Honestly Sharpay, think of someone besides yourself for once! Now tell me everything you said to these people."

"Nothing. I said nothing," which is one hundred percent true. Your brother was comfortable surrounded by East High's Golden Group and easily made conversation as you sat there silently, calculating the calories in your food as the woman standing before you taught you to always do.

"Nothing? You did not once mention how uncalled for it was for them to take away the theatre from you and your brother? This is exactly what I mean about thinking about other people! Just once Sharpay, I would like to see you do something selfless for the good of your brother or the good of this family. I will not have you tattering the Evans name just because you are so self-absorbed."

"I'm just _oh so _sorry mother. I _will_ do better," you say in such a sarcastic tone even the kids at school who call you the 'Ice Queen' would be surprised.

"Yes," she says curtly in her no-nonsense, matter-of-fact voice. "You will. Don't you ever take that tone with me again, do you understand?"

As she opens the door to leave she turns around quickly.

"And sit up straight, a hunched back could do nothing but enhance your unbecoming features."

You feel your back straighten automatically, its almost as if it's scared. "Yes ma'am."

When the door clicks shut and your mother disappears you feel a breath of air escape you and your back returns to it's normal posture. You wish you could just go to sleep but mother would never approve of you skipping your nightly pore treatment for those "atrocious blackheads" you get all too often. It's almost unthinkable for you to go straight to bed any given night. It's part of the reason you never had sleepovers as a child, the other part being you never really had any friends outside of your various drama clubs.

Nearly forty-five minutes later you lay on your shimmery silver egyptian cotton sheets, and under the warmth of your duvet you wait for the sleep you've been desperately craving to finally overtake you. The last thing you see behind your closed eyelids before you fully drift away is two warm blue eyes, so unlike your mother's and even your own, smiling at you from under a mop of slightly disheveled golden brown hair.


	2. Gold

a/n: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you really made my two weeks:) Chapter 2 includes Troy ... and lots and lots of Troy, which I'm sure will make many people happy. Please give me some feedback on how I wrote him. Personally, I kind of like him but I want to know if there's anything you want me to change.

Also, I'm not particularly happy with this chapter but please bear with me because I still need to see where exactly I'm taking this.

* * *

You find you think much clearer in the mornings. Some people are night owls, barely comprehending anything that happens before noon, but not you. In fact, it's just one of the many ways you differ from your twin. 

You stare into your reflection, lost in your thoughts, as your hands mechanically drag a flat iron through your blonde tresses. You're trying to pinpoint when it was exactly that everything changed. Hollywood would like to convince you that there should've been one big dramatic moment in which your whole life shifted, but there was no such moment. In reality, the shift was so subtle you barely even noticed.

That, you suppose, is what landed you in your current predicament. When you were younger your imagination ran wild; you spent so many hours reading fairytales that you actually began to believe in them. You never went through the "imaginary friend" stage, but you did pretend other people were around you, complementary actors in whatever new storyline you dreamt up. If you looked close enough into the stillness of the air, you could really see them smiling at you, even hear them answer you. So wrapped up in your own delusions, you never saw the world for what it really was.

You mutter a curse as a car horn in the distance breaks you from your ponderings. Glancing at the clock next to you, you see it's already eight o'clock and realize the honk you heard was Ryan. Quickly you shut off the appliance, grab your bag, all the while praying you haven't forgotten anything.

You make a move to flick the light switch on your way out, but as you do your eyes catch the picture sitting on your dresser. Inside of a glittery gold frame are four people, smiling as the rain falls. A moment later the door is closed and you're gone.

---

"Sharpay, did you give any thought to what we discussed last night?" _Mommy dearest_ asks as you stumble into the kitchen on your ridiculously high heels. You inwardly scoff at the word 'discussed,' for you don't remember any discussion going on.

"Yes mother, I've given it deep thought. But before I do anything I thought I should find out what you'd like me to do." No harm in a little white lie.

"Why _dear_, I think that is the smartest idea you have had in a long time. I believe you and your brother both should teach that Montwo girl and the Bolton boy a lesson." Although you hear her clearly pronounce the Scenestealer's last name wrong, you'd never dream of correcting your mother. Besides, it's not as if Gabriella's worth it.

"But mom-"

"Mother," she corrects.

"Mother, I thought you were friends with the Boltons."

"I am. However, my friendship does not get in the way of seeing that my family gets what it deserves. It is about time Troy learned he cannot have everything in life, his parents have been much too generous with him."

"What do you propose I do?"

"The Monahue girl has stolen your domain, so I believe it is only fair you steal hers."

"But mom- mother, sorry," you correct yourself before she gets the chance to. You notice she looks exceptionally miffed at that. "She's a genius! How am I gonna steal her spot on the Decathalon team?"

"Oh, that's right. I forgot that was the little smarty-pants, and we all know you were not _endowed_ with your fathers math and science skills. Perhaps then, all you should focus on is getting back what is rightfully yours, seeing it is all _you_ can do."

"Yes mother."

"Good. Now hurry along, your brother is already waiting in the car, you would not want to make him late again."

"Right. Bye mother," you say over your shoulder as you jog your way over to the door.

"Sharpay," her voice haults your footsteps.

"Yeah?" you ask, slowly turning around, afraid of what she could possibly ask of you now.

"You really do need to work on your speech. You use far too much slang, it's quite unfitting for a lady."

"Yes mother, I apologize," and you run out the door before she can think of anything else to criticize you on.

--

As you arrive at school, the sight you see almost sickens you. The Scenestealer is standing there, big stupid grin on her face with Troy "the basketball guy" Bolton's hand gripped tightly around her own. You know he's not _just_ the basketball guy, not anymore. He's proven it, but you know hearing you call him that would piss him off and for some reason right now that is oddly appealing to you.

You're a lot alike, you muse. Both struggling between the line of who you are and who your parents want you to be. The only difference is he's not scared anymore. Yeah, he originally tried out for the play in secret but eventually he had his callbacks in front of both East and West High, no thanks to you.

As your brother locks the car, sending a loud beep through the air, the Scenestealer then turns her grin on you. You grimace as you see her wave you over; _what a perfect way to start off the day,_ runs sarcastically through your head.

You try to hide that ugly grimace, you are an actress after all, but you fail dismally as she shrieks a hello and you give her a kiss on each cheek. You truly are pathetic.

When Ryan mentions something about needing help for the third period math test, he and the Scenestealer walk away in a wind of formulas and equations. You're not even quite sure where they're going, but you are definitely aware of the fact that you're now alone with Troy.

"So," he says in an obvious attempt to break the slightly awkward silence you've been standing in.

"So," you echo.

"Are you coming to the basketball game this weekend?"

"No."

"Why not? It's kind of a big deal. Y'know we _are_ in all-state. Come on Sharpay, where's your school spirit?"

_Out the window with my dreams_, you want to say. You want to see that stupid smile erase from his face and change to a look of shock. Instead, you just reply with a sarcastic "Go Wildcats."

He laughs at this and suddenly you're reminded of how much you like his laugh. It's a bit contagious, you find.

"Nice. You're definitely cheerleader material."

"Not quite. Didn't you know to get on the team you have to list the top fifty reasons Troy Bolton is just _oh so dreamy_?"

He blushes at this. "Ha, ha," he says drawing each syllable out. Then a sudden scared look crosses his face.

"Wait. You weren't serious, were you?"

"Nah," you say with a shrug. As he begins to look relieved you flash a smirk and reply, "Only the top ten."

He punches you lightly on the arm and tingles immediately erupt on the spot. You wonder if he felt the same thing but the way his smile fell from his face, you assume you know the answer.

"So," you say, using his earlier tactic.

"So," he replies, a slow grin coming to his face as he realizes what you're trying to do.

"Are you and Gabriella officially going out yet?"

"Honest answer?"

"Of course."

"I don't really know."

"You don't- how is that even possible?"

He shrugs, "I don't know."

"Well you don't know much, do you?"

He gives you a sheepish grin as he shoves his hands deep in his jean pockets. "Not really."

"Well do you want to?" _Please say no._

"Want to what?"

"Go out with her." _Please say no._

"Oh, well yeah, of course. Who wouldn't?"

Your grimace returns full force as you see him stare dreamily into space. "I can think of a few," you mutter without realizing it. Probably not the best thing to say to the boy smitten with her. _Oops._

"Aw, and you were doing so well."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm onto you, Sharpay Evans."

"And what exactly are you talking about, Troy Bolton?"

"One minute you're coming up with a coniving plan to keep me and Gabriella out of the play but now you're suddenly BFF's with the both of us? Now I know I'm just some dumb jock but I find something wrong with that picture."

You give a shrug of nonchalance as you marvel at how on earth he's the only one who's noticed. Not even Chad, who seemingly hates you, has seen anything strange with your sudden appearence within the group.

"Whatever you say, Sherlock."

"Oh yes Sharpay. Be afraid, be very afraid. I'm determined to find out what makes you tick."

Turning away from his piercing gaze you say softer, "And you're not the least bit worried you won't find anything? I am just the Ice Princess, after all."

"Yeah well, there's always a reason why the ice froze, isn't there?"

"If you say so."

"I do. And I say there's a reason it thaws, too."

_You can be that reason_, you want to say. Of course you don't though. His reaction would probably be worse than it would have been to the last thing you bit your tongue on.

"Sometimes it's better off frozen."

"Not this time," he says and the grin he gives you almost melts you alone. _Almost._

The bell rings somewhere in the distance and as you turn to ask Troy where exactly your brother has disappeared to, you find he's no longer there. His "mission" must have begun, or perhaps he just didn't want to be late. You almost laugh at the thought, you do have Darbus for homeroom after all.

Minutes later, Ms. Darbus begins reading the announcements and your last thoughts are of -_surprise surprise-_ bright blue eyes burning with excitement. Part of you, a part you admittedly hate, wants him to figure you out. But the other part, the more logical part, knows he's better off in the dark. Why damage his innocent little shield?

_We're soarin', flyin', there's not a star in heaven that we can't reach,_ you hum quietly to yourself. As you get lost in a mix of the song, your thoughts, and the Drama teacher's words, you can't help but notice those familiar blue eyes burning a hole though the back of your head.

---

As you step out of East High's double entrance doors you immediately feel something wet smack against the top of your head. You look up at the sky, eyes being forced to squint as the sun shines in them, and you see a stream of rain fall. Before you can mentally strangle Ryan for deserting you to go off with none other than the Scenestealer, the light sprinkle turns into pouring rain.

It soaks you to the bones in an instant. You think about ducking into the school to wait it out, or at least call your father to come get you, when you feel the sun warming you. Suddenly memories begin to flood through you and you remember how much you love sun showers. _A beautiful contradiction,_ you always call them. And just like that, the thought of not being out here seems unimaginable. So you begin your long trip home to the other side of town.

Once you reach Plum (street, that is) you notice the sound of the car behind you driving at a crawl. It's been like that for nearly fifteen minutes and your skin starts to prickle in fright. You notice the car speed up slightly as you do. Ready for a major fight, maybe a profanity or two thrown about, you stop suddenly and turn around. To tell the truth, you're not quite sure whether you should be relieved as you see Troy sitting in the driver's seat of the black truck.

You roll your eyes at his faux innocent smile and turn around to keep walking. Unfortunately, now that he's seen you he's not about to simply let you walk away. He pulls up along side of you and beeps the horn, motioning for you to get in. You keep walking.

He's getting insistent now; after honking and motioning for five minutes he rolls down the window, letting rain fall onto the leather seats.

"Sharpay!" he shouts. "Get in!"

"No," you reply simply. Your pace never falters and your eyes never waver from the spot in front of you.

"Get in!" he screams louder.

"No."

"Damnit Sharpay! Just get in!"

"Wow, alert the news, Troy Bolton has almost just cursed."

"I just want to take you home."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because Troy," you say finally turning to look at him. "You don't want to take me home, you want to turn me into your own twisted little science experiment. I'm not interested."

You turn your head to stare ahead again, "Besides, I like the rain."

From the corner of your eye you see him give you a strange look, as if you have five heads or something. But you do suppose you look quite the scene with makeup undoubtedly running down your face and hair matted against your head.

"Fine. If you won't get in then I'll just have to walk with you."

"Go home, Troy." _Go fuck Gabriella._

"'Fraid I can't do that," and he stops his car and jumps out. "Well, let's go."

"Get back in the car. I'll let you take me home if you leave right after that. Deal?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do I have to leave after I drop you off? That's very unhospitable," he says wagging a finger the way his mother used to do when you trampled mud on the carpet.

"Trust me Bolton, you don't want to be there anymore than I want you to be."

"Why not? Your mom loves me!"

_At least that makes one of us, _you think as you both hop in the car.

"Don't you have a sort-of girlfriend you'd rather be spending time with?"

"No."

"No?"

"You know what I mean. As memory recalls, she's currently with your brother."

"Don't you have to go supervise or something?"

"I trust her."

"Ha," you laugh. "You would."

"What's that supposed to mean? Gabriella would never cheat on me!"

"Never say never," you say as he stops in front of your house.

"Sharpay, what the hell?" he looks you in the eyes, eyebrows scrunched in aggravated confusion. "That's totally uncalled for."

"Whatever. I'm just stating the truth. Do you ever _really_ know a person and what they'd do in any given situation?"

"No. That's what trust is."

"Hmm, if you say so. But if you ask me, you're just setting yourself up for pain."

Suddenly he gets serious, looking in your eyes so deeply you have to turn your head.

"What made you like this, Sharpay?"

"Life, Bolton, life," you say as you open the door and exit the car. You wipe the imaginary dirt from your jeans and nonchalantly say "Thanks for the ride," as if you didn't almost just let way too much information slip.

"No problem," you hear him murmur, still obviously confused, before you're too far away.

---

"Sharpay, darling!" your mother calls to you from downstairs. From your spot at your desk you mouth "darling" suspiciously.

"Sharpay, honey!" she calls again. "Come downstairs!"

Knowing that if you don't obey you'd witness her anger later, you place your feet inside your fuzzy slippers and descend the marble staircase. As you reach the bottom you see your mother standing with Troy Bolton himself. It occurs to you that you're seeing a bit too much of him today.

"How are your parents, dear?" she asks.

"Good, thanks."

"I am afraid Ralph and I haven't gotten a chance to see them in awhile. We simply _must_ get together soon."

"I'll tell my mom to call you tonight."

"Fantastic. Oh dear, you have become such the little gentleman, haven't you?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Evans."

You take this moment to clear your throat, you're not quite sure how much more of the false pleasantries you can take.

"Ah well, I suppose I'll leave you two alone. It is so nice to see you two friends at last."

You wait until the clicking of your mother's heels echo in the next room before speaking.

"What do you want, Bolton? Here to harass me some more?"

"Me? Harass you? I think it's the opposite, babe."

"Babe?" you repeat, quirking an eyebrow amused. "But I didn't exactly ask you your opinion, now did I? I asked you why you were here."

"Jeez Sharpay, chill out. How can you even be your mother's daughter? You're so uptight!"

_Wrong thing to say, buddy. _"Get. Out, " you growl, voice dangerously low.

"What? But what did I-"

"I said get out!"

"Fine, whatever. I just wanted to give you your iPod. It must've fallen out of your bag earlier."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Yeah."

Your heart clenches in embarassment as the pink mp3 player slips from his hand to yours. He turns and begins walking away in silence. He pauses, however, once he reaches the door.

"You've got some interesting music on there," he says casually, as if it's perfectly normal to intrude on someone's privacy. "Not what I'd expect."

"Come on Troy, you should've learned by now. When it comes to me, expect the unexpected."

And with a shove, he's out the door.


	3. Bend

a/n: Hey guys! I wanna thank everyone again for reviewing, it means so much to me.

**Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Don't eat too much turkey!**

Oh, and from now on the dividers --- will be for a short change in setting, like hours later or just a different place. But --- will divide longer periods of time, like days. I don't know if it'll be used in any other chapters but it definitely will be in this.

**song credit: Date Rape - Sublime ;)-**

* * *

You sit there idly, flipping through a magazine, with headlines of which 'celeb' couple has broken up most recently. Because, of course, there's absolutely nothing else in the world to report on. You knew this day would come, you think, as you skim an article of hair how-to's. _It was only a matter of time._

"Sharpay! Say something!"

"What do you want me to say, Ryan?"

"I don't know. You always have an opinion, just tell me what it is!"

You stare into his bloodshot and weary eyes, and your heart starts to break.

"Have you been eating?"

"When I'm hungry."

"I'm guessing that's not very much."

"Not really."

"Been sleeping?"

"What do you think?" he shakes his head. "This isn't what I meant by say something, you know."

You sigh, wondering what the hell you're supposed to say in a situation like this.

"Ryan, you know I just want what's best for you. If you're happy with her than that's great."

He looks relieved, and is surely about to thank you when you continue. "_But_ you fucked up big, bro."

"Don't you think I realize that?" he shouts.

"I don't really think you do! She has a boyfriend, Ryan! You can't just go around kissing someone with a boyfriend!"

He looks sheepishly to the ground. "They were never official or exclusive."

"That's a lame excuse, and you know it. That girl has had a stamp on her ever since she walked into East High. Do you really think the rest of the school is gonna see it the way you do?"

"You know what? That's for the _great_ advice, _sis_. I've really gotta go."

You watch him walk away, trying desperately to keep his back straight and his gaze level. _Trying and failing_.

As he reaches the door his head turns ever so slightly. "You've changed," slips quietly from his lips.

_Or maybe you just never knew me to begin with._

---

_She said let's go_

_He said no way_

_Come on, babe, it's your lucky day..._

"Shar!" a voice says, halting you in your steps, hands raised mid-air as they were previously drumming against your thighs in tune to your iPod. Briefly, your tongue wanders to one of your back molars as you wonder if you've gotten a cavity from the sugar-sweet tone of her voice.

"Oh, hey Gabby." _And there's cavity number two._

"What are you doing at school this early?"

"Oh, you know, just uh, finishing some homework."

"That's cool, do you need any help?"

_Yeah, about as much as I need a bullet through my head. _"No thanks, that's really sweet though. What are you doing here anyways?"

"I thought I'd work in the lab a little this morning. I've been a little, um, overwhelmed lately."

"I see. Yeah, there's nothing that calms me down better than mixing potentially dangerous chemicals," you joke.

You briefly think if things were different, if you didn't hate her with every fibre of your being, you might actually feel bad for her. It can't be easy, you think, to just be kissed by someone you thought only had platonic feelings for you. And then there's just the _teensytiny_ problem of having a "boyfriend." But alas, things aren't different. She's still the Scenestealer and you're still the Ice Princess. As much as things may change, they always stay the same. On some level, at least.

She laughs, that high pitched, light giggle, but something that surprises you is that look in her eyes. She's nervous, she's confused, and she's wondering if you know her secret. "Well my offer still stands about the homework, if you ever need any help you can always come to me."

"Thanks, I'm probably gonna head off the the auditorium though. I'll see you later."

"Yeah," she says quietly. "See you."

You begin to walk away, as fast as your new pumps will allow, but you're not quick enough. She calls your name and you cringe. What is it she could possibly want now?

"You know, don't you?"

"Know what?" you ask innocently.

"Come on Sharpay, you're a great actress but I know Ryan must've told you."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

She stares into your eyes a minute, brown on brown, and even though your eyes are the same color at the moment they couldn't be any different. Yours hold a cold, nonchalant look as they always do, whereas hers resemble your brothers; dejected, wary, and surprisingly enough, bloodshot. It seems Ryan isn't the only one who's been losing sleep.

"Alright, I'm sorry." she says, and the sad look on her faces increases tenfold. She's disappointed in you, you realize. You shouldn't feel bad, you've made a vow to hate her until she gives up everything she's taken. But as she slowly walks away, perfect posture broken into a slouch, you're confused as a bout of sympathy takes you over.

---

"Dear Lord, Sharpay. Could you make anymore noise?" you're asked snidely as you walk into the house, throwing the door open carelessly.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you'd be home."

"Regardless, I just payed thousands in renovations and I _will not _pay to have the wall repaired because you storm into the house like a barbarian."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, how was school today?"

You're momentarily taken off guard, your mother has never cared to ask about school before. "It was okay, I had a big exam in French but I think-"

"That is _not_ what I meant. I was talking about the _theatre_. Did you secure your position in the upcoming musical as we talked about?"

_Of course, the musical._ How could you have been so naive? "I actually don't think they'll be auditioning for the musical. Gabriella's got a lot of Science Club stuff and Troy would never audition without her."

"Oh, that _reminds_ me! The Boltons will be coming over for Easter."

"What? But they haven't come over in years!"

"That is precisely why I invited them. Your father and I have not had the chance to get together with them for quite sometime as he's been traveling so much lately. We do not want the Boltons to think we are rude, do we?"

"No ma'am."

"Since we are having company, do dress appropriately. I do not want to see you in those loud garments you insist on wearing to school. A sweater set and skirt should do nicely."

"Yes mother, I'll go pick out my outfit now."

"Very well, and I would like to see it before Thursday."

"Okay," and once again you dash away before she can further comment or criticize. It wasn't as harsh today, you think. But then you see Ryan in his room, attempting to study math on his own. _No wonder._

---

You stare at your reflection as you slip a pearl necklace on. Your hair is done in an elegant bun using half of your hair, while the lower half was straightened until your ends threatened to fall off. Pearls also hang from your ears, as well as your right wrist. You wear a sweater set that is a mother-approved lilac and a deeper purple pencil skirt falling slightly below your knees. All in all, you look pretty ridiculous.

You look like your great-grandma Alice, and the silver heels your mother insisted you wear are making your feet scream. Why on Earth you have to wear 3-inch heels inside your own home is a mystery to you. It sickens you that your mother cares so much about image. _It's all about the image, gotta perfect the fucking image, while everything around it dies_, you think bitterly.

You've known Jack and Marie Bolton your whole life, they've seen you at your worst. Hell, they've seen you naked. So why even bother trying to impress them? Friends shouldn't have to impress friends. But then again, something your mother seemed to have passed on to you was her inability to keep true friends, or act like one herself for that matter.

"Sharpay, darling, the Boltons are here!" _Speak of the devil._

You look yourself over one last time, making sure there's absolutely nothing your mother can remark upon, before you're out the door.

"Oh my! Sharpay, hun, you've gotten so big!" comes the warm tone of Troy's mother as you walk down the stairs.

"Yes, dear. Teenagers have been known to get taller," Jack teases his wife. You know it's no shock to him how you've grown, you see him almost every day at school.

"Shush you!" she says back with a smile on her face. "Come over here Sharpay and give me a hug! I can't believe it's been so long!"

"Too long," you say as you wrap your arms around her, the woman who was more like a mother to you in your younger days.

"Hello, Mr. Bolton." you greet next, sticking out your hand for him to shake when he cracks an amused grin at you.

"Come on _Ms. Evans_, I thought we were past those formalities a long time ago."

You smile, it was surely something about those Boltons that made their smiles were so contagious. You give the man a hug as you reply, "Sorry, Jack."

"That's more like it."

"And what about me?" a voice asks from your right.

There's Troy Bolton, in all his glory. Blue eyes twinkling, hair wind swept, and hands stuck in the pockets of his flattering light blue sweater. At least _he_ looks comfortable. Actually, the whole of the Bolton family have an air of comfort about them, only heightened by the way their outfits seem so thoughtlessly, yet carefully put together. You're not quite sure if that thought made sense, but you do know your family sticks out like a sore thumb with their head-to-toe designer clothing.

"Hey Troy."

"No hug for your best friend?"

"Best friend?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

He brings his head a little closer to yours, eyes darting left to right as if to make sure the coast is clear, and he stage whispers "Your secret best friend. Shh! Don't tell."

You roll your eyes as the adults all laugh at his childishness. The one thing you always admired about him was his ability to make light of any situation.

"So, Vivian, where's Ralph? Already started watching the big game?" Jack asks.

"No, I'm afraid his flight was a bit delayed. He should be home in an hour or so. Make yourself at home though, you know where the den is."

"Actually Viv, we're both going to help you prepare dinner. Jack and I have agreed he's been getting a little too into sports lately."

"You and Jack agreed what?" the man asks, panicked. "Jack remembers agreeing to no such thing."

"Come on, it'll be good for you. I promise you'll get to watch after halftime."

"Fine," he sighs. "This is the thanks I get for staying up late with you to watch that movie about a notebook? Sharpay, I swear, I'm so underappreciated!"

You laugh, seeing a grown man being so dramatic. You admire how alike he is to his son.

"Oh yes Jack, no one understands you," Marie mocks. "You kids behave!" Are the last words that ring out in the open entryway, before the three adults disappear into the kitchen.

"Well Bolton, I'll be seeing you."

"What? Where are you going?"

"Up to my room. There's no way I'm spending my day watching a bunch of overpaid athletes feel each other up trying to get a ball."

"Well I'm not watching it alone! Where's Ryan?"

"Good question." It's incredibly likely though, that he's hiding out. You know, after kissing Troy's girlfriend and all.

"Come on, Sharpay!"

"Nope. You'll only really be watching half of it yourself. But if I know your dad, he'll sneak in to watch it while our mothers are reading a cookbook."

"Fine," he relented. "You're probably right, anyways."

"I always am."

He raises an eyebrow as a smile comes to his lips. You give him a quick wink as you turn around to walk up the stairs. The first thing you're going to do is take these damned shoes off.

---

You give a screech as the door bangs open, scaring you from the episode of _The O.C._ you had TiVo-ed.

"Troy! What the hell do you think you're doing, besides giving me a heart attack?"

"I got bored. And that," he says while jumping onto the side of your king sized bed and stealing the remote from your hand. "Is when I remembered you have a plasma in your room."

"I already told you I'm not watching sports!"

"Well it seems you are."

"I was watching something before you rudely interrupted."

"He didn't do it, they all work it out in the end."

"What? How do you know? You watch _The O.C_.?"

"No, but they always work it out in the end, don't they?"

You growl and mutter a few choice words under your breath and you wonder how exactly you've ended up with Troy Bolton lounging carelessly on your bed, hands tucked behind his head as he stares intently at a bunch of sweaty men on TV. The only thing that made the thought of this stupid holiday bearable was that Troy would be occupied for at least two hours before he came to bug you.

You're once again startled as he begins to shout, "Go, go, go, go, go! Ohhhhhhh!"

"What just happened?"

"Damn, we almost scored! We're losing now!"

"Oh no!" you say dramatically. "Say it ain't so!"

"I know! Can you belie- Wait a minute, you're mocking me, aren't you?"

"Just a little."

"Well that's not nice."

"Ooh, my _sincerest_ apologies to the most _respectable_ Mr. Bolton."

"That's more like it!"

"Newsflash Troy, just because East High worships you doesn't mean I will."

"You used to. Remember 'tootles'?"

"Lapse in judgement. I had no idea what I was thinking. In fact, I blame temporary insanity."

"Ouch, way to hurt a man's ego."

"Trust me, you need to be taken down a notch. Or two. Or three. Or-"

"Alright, alright. I get it. You think I'm some pompous moron who takes for granted the school worships me 'cause I can make a few free throws."

"Are you denying it?"

"No, I guess not. It just sounds really harsh when you say it out loud."

"Yeah well, I call 'em as I see 'em."

"You know, I've always liked that about you."

"What?"

"That you tell the truth; straight up, no exceptions, no cover-ups, no apologies. You say what you mean and you're not afraid what someone will think about it."

"Don't tell me you admire me? Especially not for that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's stupid, Troy. Yeah, I'm blunt, but look where it's gotten me."

"Alone in your room with the hottest guy in school," he says cheekily, waggling his eyebrows.

"Who has a girlfriend."

"Since when has Sharpay Evans ever been scared of Gabriella Montez?"

"Scared? Pssh, never. I'm just stating the facts."

"Knock, knock," comes a voice from outside the door. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Daddy!" you screech, jumping up from the bed and running towards his open arms.

"How are you, Blondie?"

You laugh at the nickname, he's been calling you that since you were two. "I would've been better if you weren't gone so long this time! I missed you!"

"I know. I really am sorry, but one thing led to another and this deal took longer than we thought it would."

"Promise me you'll call more next time!"

"I promise. Oh, hello there Troy," he says for the first time noticing the brunette boy.

"Hey Mr. Evans."

"Troy," he says warningly. "I've seen you in the bathtub, I think it's quite alright to call me Ralph."

You see Troy smile at the friendly man. Your father has this way of making everyone around him feel at ease. "Sorry man, old habits I guess."

"Oh yes, I remember how you used to be scared of me. Your mother would call up Vivian and apologize that she had to cancel your little play-date with Sharpay and Ryan because you were scared to come over."

Troy rubs his neck, "Yeah, ha ha. That was me, young and stupid."

"_So _unlike the way you are now, right?" you ask sarcastically. Troy doesn't seem to notice the tone in your voice.You see his face darken as he looks at you, ready to fire back. But the smile on your face disarms him.

"Relax, I was joking."

"Oh!" your father says interestedly. "You're watching the game! How are we faring?"

"Up by seven, one minute left 'till halftime."

"Good. I suppose I'll go rescue you're father from the women now. Feel free to join us Troy, I imagine Sharpay isn't enjoying the game very much."

"Are you kidding? Sharpay doesn't know the difference between a quarterback and Nickelback."

"Hey!" you reply indignantly. "Sharpay is also standing right here, you know!"

Your father laughs and musses the hair you spent so much time on, "I'll see you later, Blondie." You watch him walk out of the room until you can no longer see his salt-and-pepper hair, a smile on your face. Your father's finally home, and things seem a little brighter all of a sudden.

---

"Can you please pass the mashed potatoes, Ryan?" Marie asks your brother who's silently sitting and staring at his food, his fork twirling a piece of asparagus.

"Ryan?"

"Ryan!" you shout, breaking him out of his reverie.

"Huh?"

"Can you please pass the potatoes?" she asks again, voice still as warm and kind as ever. That's the most obvious difference between her and your mother. They both add a 'dear' or a 'honey' or even a 'darling' when speaking, but Marie actually means it when she says it.

"Oh, sure, sorry," Ryan mumbles. Passing the dish and returning to his previous activities. His eyes won't leave his plate, but it certainly doesn't help that Troy is sitting across from him.

"Hey Ryan, where we you all morning, man? I needed someone to watch the game with, your sister kept changing it to that loser soap opera."

"The O.C. is not a soap opera!" you defend. Partially because it's your favorite show, and partially to get the subject away from Ryan who was staring like a deer in headlights.

"Let's see- the actors suck, there's been rape, drugs, sex, cheating, death, murder, an illegitimate child, and it's set in Newport Beach. Sure sounds like a soap to me."

"Just curious Troy, how _do_ you know so much about that show if you hate it so much?"

"Well, I, um. You see, the thing is..." he sighs defeatedly. "Guilty pleasure."

"Ha! Yes! Victory! I finally have something to hold against the golden boy!"

The adults look on amused as you pump your arms and a dark blush tints Troys cheeks.

"Aw, don't be embarrassed my ickle Troy-kins. I won't tell anyone...yet."

"I've decided I don't like you very much Sharpay."

---

"Why has Ryan been acting so weird?"

"He's always been weird."

"But it's just, he hasn't said anything all night. He looks really bad too, like he lost weight."

"He's just had some things on his mind, that's all. It's nothing to be worried about, I'm sure."

"If you say so."

"Well, I do."

"You know Sharpay, you've been uncharacteristically nice today."

"Ooh, big word. Good job."

"I'm serious."

"What, was that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Well, actually I don't know. It's just- you seem a lot happier today then you're at school. It was only a few days ago you kicked me out of your house."

"You deserved it, you were being an asshole."

"I still don't understand what I did."

"It's nothing. I'm still surprised that you're still surprised I can be nice. We did used to be friends, or have you forgotten?"

"No, I haven't. I mean, I couldn't even if I wanted to. Every time I see your parents all they talk about is how me and you used to run around naked when we were three."

"It's not our faults they put us in itchy, not to mention matching, overalls. I looked like a boy."

Troy laughs, the mental picture obviously becoming too much for him. "God, do you remember those ugly things? I can never remember where Ryan was during all of this streaking."

"Probably with my mom. He was really shy when he was little, practically attached to my mom's hip."

"Good times."

"Yeah," you agree wistfully. They were some of the best times, certainly better than the current times.

"Wow, I can't believe you have this!" Troy says, picking up that glittery gold frame you know all so well. "Do you remember when we decorated these frames? My mom bought us this little crafts kit and you were decorating the frame for your mom for Mother's Day but you liked it so much you kept it for yourself."

You laugh, slightly nervously. "Yeah, I remember I dumped the pink glitter on you because you said I was being too sloppy." _Please don't ask about the picture._

"Oh yeah! It took me weeks to get it all out of my hair. Believe it or not, sometimes I still find pink glitter stuck in my carpet."

"You're lying! Do you _ever_ vacuum?" _Please don't ask about the picture._

"Sharpay, look at me. I'm a guy, do you really think I do?"

"That's true." _Please don't ask about the picture._

"So when was this picture taken?" _Fuck._

"Not too long after we made the frames. It was a family picnic."

"You look so happy," he says noticing the smile that almost consumes your entire face.

"I was."

"Was it, raining?"

"Yeah."

He looks at you with a smile and suddenly he squints his eyes in a calculating way. This is exactly what you didn't want to happen. He's beginning to figure things out.

"But of course that rain was nothing like the monsoon of '99."

"No kidding. Now that was an experience. I was sick for two weeks after we tried to swim in my driveway. Not to mention, put in time out."

"Me too. My mom chewed me out for ruining my dress, it was a gift."

"Oops."

"Oh yeah."

"Hey Sharpay?"

"Yeah?"

"What ever happened to us?"

"What do you mean?"

"We used to be best friends and then, I don't even know how, we were more like enemies."

"I don't know. I guess it's complicated, but do you honestly think if our parents weren't friends, we would be? When we were little it was one thing, as far as I was concerned our classmates were a sad lot. Even then, we rarely saw each other, and in Middle School I guess we started making our cliques. You got more involved in basketball, I got more involved in acting, and we were done. I suppose we weren't really meant to be friends once we grew up and figured out who we really were. It was easier back then, all we cared about was having fun, not if you were a jock and I was a drama queen."

"Like Kindergarten," he says quietly.

"Um, sure."

"But we're friends now, aren't we?"

"On some level I guess. But there's a difference between friends and friendly."

---

"Thank goodness the Boltons have left. Now I can ask you what exactly you were thinking when you decided to do your hair that way."

"_I _thought it looked nice."

"Sharpay, if you would like to do your hair like that for school, I cannot stop you, though I would want to. Today was a holiday and holidays require us to look nice. It seems everyone had succeeded in that simple task, except you."

"I'm sorry." _I'm sorry damnit, I'm always fucking sorry._

"I will have to call Alexander to come do your hair next time, there is no way I can let my child walk around looking like that. One would have thought you had birds keeping residence in there."

"Why does it matter? I've known the Boltons since I was two! I really don't think they care what my hair looks like."

"Oh you naive little girl. You do not need to be on a stage to act. Masking unpleasantness is something even most common people can do. I just do not know what to do with you anymore. You are a constant mess and furthermore, it is as if you do not care! I cannot have you running around so recklessly! There are certain ways a girl is supposed to act, and certain things a girl is supposed to do. I can say with complete honesty that you are not doing any of these things. I am going to have to see an improvement in you soon, understood?"

"Yes."

"Good."

And just when you think things can't get any worse, in walks Troy.

"Uh sorry. Was I interrupting anything?"

"Oh no, Troy, don't be ridiculous. What is it that you needed?"

"I, uh, I left my cell on Sharpay's nighttable."

"Well help yourself, dear. I will be seeing you soon, I hope. I am off to bed now though, goodnight kids."

She's off in a moment, silk robe billowing behind her. Troy crosses the room slowly to the white piece of furniture. He picks up the phone, and as he heads back to the door he stares at you. A piercing stare and with an overwhelming sense of dread you realize he's heard everything.

"Goodnight, Troy," you say calmly.

He just keeps staring until he reaches the door, hesitating under the frame. He battles himself for only a moment longer before whispering a "'Night."

And then he's gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts. This could prove to be quite dangerous...

* * *

a/n: I apologize for the insane amount of dialogue in here, next chapter will be full of what's going on in Sharpay's head. I'm thinking they'll definitely balance each other out. So that was, I think, my longest chapter so far but it was pretty jam-packed. You've met Sharpay's dad, seen what the Boltons are like when not obsessing over basketball, watched in shock & horror as Sharpay had slightly sympathetic feelings for the "Scenestealer," learned about Troy & Sharpay's past (albeit, a little cliched), oh and not to mention RYAN KISSED GABRIELLA! dun dun dunnnn.. damn, not even I saw that one coming 

So what happens next? Will Gabriella tell Troy? Will Sharpay tell Troy? Did Troy really overhear Sharpay and her mom? Will Ryan ever get any sleep? Hopefully I'll come up with those answers sometime soon. Don't forget to review:D


	4. Rain

_You don't care about impossible,  
Something I wish I could learn from you,  
Write me down as the best idea you had,  
Watch the fire fly,  
'Cause I stole match tonight_

You lay on your bed, no sounds are made except the song playing from your iHome. It plays on repeat, the effect a mind numbing trance and you're barely aware of whatever plays on the muted television before you. You're in a scary place, you think. He knows, he's gotta know. But what if he doesn't? Your brain is on mental overload, battling itself between the depths of logic and intuition. You give a hollow laugh as you think of something your brother said to you once, "don't you wish life had an undo button?" If not an undo button, than perhaps a rewind. Just twenty minutes time is all you want to go back, to fix, to erase, to undo.

You wonder how exactly you're supposed to face him, Troy, in school on Monday. He knows the biggest secret you've ever kept. Maybe not completely, but you're sure he's got the gist of it. And you know from experience that once the mind wonders about a particular situation, it becomes that much worse. Whatever particular scenario he's thought up in his head is probably ten times worse than the reality. Or is it?

You take your gold glitter picture frame off of your bureau, cracking a strained smile at the strip of paper stuck in the lower left corner that says **'Troy & Sharpay, Secret Best Friends For Life (SBFFL)'** with a doodled smiley face. He has no idea the extent of what the picture in that frame means to you. "You look happy," he said. He was dead on. You don't think there was ever a time you were happier.

You remember back to that day, seeing things so clearly it's almost as if you really did have a rewind button that brought you back to this moment in time. It was the cliche of a perfect day: the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and there was not a cloud in the sky. Your father had just gotten home from a big business conference in France that lasted nearly one month and your eight year old self had proposed the family do something to celebrate. You find it incredibly hard to believe it was actually your mother who suggested a picnic in a nearby park.

_There's a hope,  
There's a light,  
And I see it in your eyes,  
And I hope you can see it in mine (there's a secret and a time)  
There's a chance,  
And a time,  
That the sky could fall tonight,  
And I will be here at your side,_

You and your brother spent hours climbing the jungle gym and playing tag, even getting your parents to join in every once and awhile. What rips at your heart the most is the way you remember your parents looking into each others eyes while you were playing. It was so intense, but so loving. In that moment you decided you wanted to love someone as much as your parents loved each other. Way back then was when your silly little crush on Troy Bolton began.

You reflect on your thoughts from previous days: when did it really all change? One minute your parents were having this scene out of some _Lifetime_ romance movie, and the next your mother is telling you your eating habits are out of control and you need to slim down. Only one minute divides them, or so it seems.

_Watch as the ground turns as dark as the shadows cast on them,  
And I disappear  
How are you perfect when I'm just wasting time?  
Just enclosed inside, and I'm waiting for the phone_

Their moment was broken as Ryan ran towards them, asking them to tie his sneakers. Your father laughed gently and instead of just tying them he spent the time teaching Ryan (once again) the 'bunny ears' technique. Your mother had gotten up and wandered to the beach bag that carried all of your family's belongings. She beckoned you over as she pulled out a camera.

She pulled you to her side, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and took a picture of the two of you. The angle is off, cutting out one of your pigtails, but she's holding you so close and tight. To this day it remains tucked safely into your sock drawer where you pull it out every now and then, and to this day it gives you a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach. You find yourself pulling out that picture less and less lately, you find it hurts too much to remember.

After the photo she had taken of the two of you, she took a few of your father and Ryan still tying the sneakers. Your father mentioned that you should all take a group picture, something the four of you surprisingly had never done before. Just as your mother set up the tripod to place the camera on, thunder crashed in the distance. You and your twin both jumped in fright but relaxed again once your parents took the both of you into their arms. The ten second countdown on the camera started just as the rain began to fall. There was no warning, other than the one boom of thunder, the day was still warm and sunny.

Just five seconds left and the four of you were in a torrential downpour, none of you cared though. You were in the moment and you were happy, ecstatic even. By the time the flash went off you were all soaked, but you had enormous smiles on your faces. Your father had two arms around your middle, head tucked on top of yours as he kneeled in the wet grass. Next to him was your mother in the same position with Ryan. Oh, the irony of foreshadowing.

_When you held me tight with a sense in your eyes,  
When I'm with you things are right,  
I'll keep you safe,  
Just remember that we wrote_

Your mind slowly drifts from thoughts of that glorious day, to the boy with the beautiful blue eyes. You're once again faced with an overwhelming sense of dread for the upcoming schoolweek, wondering if Troy will tell all of his perfect little friends your secret before the weekend is even over and you have a chance to confront him. You shake your head in disgust as you can just see the Scenestealer's eyes filled with sympathy for you as she explains how sorry she is and if you ever need to talk, she'll always be there for you.

You're not meant to be anyone's pity case. If that was what you wanted you would've told someone long ago. Because seriously, not even your brother, your twin, knows anything. You wonder briefly why you've never had with Ryan that 'twin telepathy' that other twins apparently have. But then again, you suppose something so trivial doesn't exist unless you both want it to. As a knock sounds on your door you resolve to talk to Troy first thing Monday morning, and until then just pray he was too embarrassed at the prospect of people knowing he was at your house to tell anyone.

You shout a half-hearted "come in," though you know an intrusion on your thoughts is not what you want at the moment.

"Just coming to say goodnight," your father says as he opens the door partially and peeks his head through the open space.

You smile gratefully, now _this_ is an intrusion you welcome.

"Did you have a good day?"

"Yeah, it was nice to see the Boltons again. But it was even better to see you again."

"I really am so sorry, Sharpay, I know it's not easy with me not being home so often. I promise that things will calm down soon though," he says softly as he comes to sit at the side of your bed.

"I hope so."

_Stars are never out of reach for you, just reach (just reach)  
Hold out your hand and touch the sky, just reach (just reach)  
Just reach, tonight..._

He raises the duvet that had been kicked carelessly to the foot of the bed over you, tucking you in along the sides.

"Warm?"

"Yeah, thanks daddy."

"Goodnight, Princess. I'll see you tomorrow."

He places a kiss on your forehead and suddenly all of the muddled thoughts that had been mulling around your head are now put to rest. Your mind is cleared, if only for the moment, and you recognize the song ending once more as you begin to drift away.

_There's a hope,  
There's a light,  
And I see it in your eyes,  
And I hope you can see it in mine (and everything could fall tonight)  
There's a chance,  
And a time,  
That the sky could fall tonight,  
And I will be here at your side,  
If the sky should fall tonight,  
I will be here at your side,  
If you fall tonight, I'm here_

There's a few seconds of complete silence before the song starts playing again, leading you into another one of your beloved dreams about flying and raining, and Troy Bolton.

_You don't care about impossible,  
Something I wish I could learn from you..._

* * *

a/n: I was anxious to start this chapter but I thought it'd be hard given the amount of feelings and emotions that needed to be put in, but right now my life sucks so it was rather easy. Sorry for the shortness of this update, it's actually the shortest chapter in the whole story but the next will be longer. I hope it made up (if even slightly) for the amount of dialogue in the last chapter & I do realize this chap. was kind of like a songfic but I didn't really plan it to happen this way. This song came on & I thought it would be interesting since Sharpay loves her music so much. I hope it worked well but if you think it'd be better without the lyrics then let me know. 

Next/Upcoming chapter(s) will answer all of the questions posed in the last, plus: If Troy knows, has he told anyone? WTF is up with Sharpays mom & her crazy MAJOR mood swing? Will we ever pinpoint when it all _really_ changed? But more importantly, by the time this fic is over will we have heard _all_ of the songs on Sharpays iPod? ;)

Review, please.

**song credit: The Sky Could Fall Tonight- Amber Pacific**


	5. Lie

_I got your runaway smile in my piggybank, baby_

_Gonna cash it right in for a new Mercedes_

_You were worth the hundred thousand miles_

_But you couldn't stay awhile--_

You groan loudly as the sound of your ringtone fills the air. Groggily turning over to your bedside clock you see the red flashing of '11:45'. You swear under your breath as you scramble to your desk to pick up your cell before it goes to voicemail.

"Hello?" you say, voice cracking.

"Hey Sharpay, did I wake you?" _No, of course you didn't wake me up; I always sound this shitty. Crackhead._

"Yeah, but it's alright. What's up Zeke?"

"Well I heard you're not coming to the big game today, I thought I'd try to change your mind. There may be an Oreo Cheesecake in it for you if you come."

You feel a small smile come to your face as you make a mental list of anything you have to do today. "Well I _was_ supposed to go shopping, but I guess I can put it off 'til tomorrow."

"Does that mean you're coming?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Great! The game starts at two but you _might_ want to get here a little early to say hello to your favorite basketball stars."

"Will do, I'll see you later, Zeke."

"See ya, Sharpay."

You close the phone with a smile on your face, not because you're going to get one of Zeke's famed baked goods, but because he's the only one at school who seems genuinely happy to be around you. You think it's too bad he has a crush on you, he's too sweet to have his heart broken. Although, he has backed away slightly- maybe he's beginning to understand asking someone to "evaporate" is not secret code for "I want you."

Then, like a ton of Manolo Blahniks, it hits you. The big basketball game today means Troy will be there. _Uh-oh. _You were beginning to accept the fact that you'd have to confront him at school, but not so soon. And _not_ in front of the whole community. Knowing there's not much you can do in your situation, you vow to do what your best at: act. You can almost hear the conversation between the two of you, **Why was your mom being so mean to you?_ Oh, she wasn't. You must have misheard her, or misinterpreted._ Oh, okay. **Troy never really was one to question something he's told, lying to him should be a piece of cake. And with that thought your stomach grumbles in anticipation of the delicious treat you'll get in only two hours.

---

You arrive in the gym at one thirty to see all of the players running some quick drills.

"Sharpay!" Zeke shouts immediately as he sees you.

You give him a quick hug hello. "I'm here, now where's my cheesecake?"

He laughs and pulls the desert out from his gym bag. "Right here."

"Ah thank God! I've been craving this all day!"

"Glad to be of service," he says as he takes a bow.

As you move to take a bite you feel two arms wrap around your waist and lift you up.

"Ahhh!" you shout, gaining the attention of all the Wildcats in the gym.

"Relax Sharpay!"

"Troy?" you ask as you try to get a look at his face.

"Well jeez, how'd you ever guess?"

He sets you down on the floor and you feel butterflies race around your stomach at the thought of this whole 'confrontation' deal. As you look at his face you can see the pure excitement bubbling through his eyes, and almost feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

"Lovin' the outfit," he says, motioning to your clothes which consist of nothing but red and white. A red beret sits atop your head, complementing the red Wildcats practice jersey you borrowed from Zeke, a white skirt, and red suede pumps.

"Well I figured if I was actually gonna show up I'd go all out."

"Did you bring a sign for your favorite player who went through so much trouble baking for you this morning?"

"Sorry, Zeke. I don't go _that_ far."

He gives a mock pout, "Well fine, be that way," and walks back over to the rest of the team. He shoots a grin back at you, to let you know he was just kidding.

"Zeke's wrong."

"What?"

"Well come on, we all know he's not your favorite player."

"Oh, and who would that be, Bolton?"

"Me, of course. I _am_ your SBFFL!"

You laugh at the serious look on his face, as if what he's saying should be completely obvious to the world.

"Oh, yes. But since you are my _secret_ best friend, I think it defies the whole part of everyone knowing."

"True."

You give a smile at the thoughtful look on his face. You're surprised to find the situation isn't awkward at all, rather playful. Then you come to a conclusion you've previously overlooked; he doesn't know. But he has to... _doesn't he_?

"Well hey, I've gotta get back to practicing. You promise to cheer your SBFFL to victory, right?"

"I think the infamous Troy Bolton will have enough of his fangirls cheering him on."

"Yeah, but they don't matter as much as you do."

You stare at the sincerity on his face, but it must have been for a moment too long because he suddenly stutters out, "I mean because, you know, they're not my SBFFL's, you are."

"Right. Break a leg, Troy."

"God, I hope not," he says with a wink before running off to rejoin his fellow Wildcats. Then, you find yourself wondering what you're supposed to do for the next fifteen minutes. Resolving to sit and watch the remainder of the practice, you head off to the bleachers, at least thankful you've made it early enough to secure a good seat. You'd like to see someone else try to climb the bleachers while wearing a 4-inch heel.

---

"No way, Gabriella. I'm telling you, pi is equal to 3.1415926_nine_4, not 3.1415926_three_4."

"You're probably right. I'm going to need to brush up on my math before the next Decathalon."

You find yourself wishing this were instead a baseball game so you could take one of the bats and bash your skull in. For nearly an hour you've had to sit through all of this "intellectual" crap. Who spends their time wondering what pi is equal to? That's why it's got a little button on calculators, _so you don't have to remember that pointless shit._ To make matters worse, not only do you have the Scenestealer and Taylor sitting on one side, that girl Martha sits on your other side, telling some girl from the opposing school about the wonders of hip-hop. _Woopdity fucking doo._

The skater kids and their friends behind you do 'the wave' as Troy gets the rebound, making the score 35-20 Wildcats. You wonder if _any_ of Zeke's baked goods could be worth submitting yourself to this torture, you doubt it though. As the game reaches halftime the cheerleaders begin a dance and the conversation next to you moves from pi to quadratic equations. _Kill me now_.

---

"What'd you think of the game?" Zeke asks as he walks you home later on.

_Just about the most torturous experience of my life._ "It was pretty good, you guys were awesome today. That three pointer you made was incredible."

"Thanks. You know, I'm kind of surprised you actually showed up today."

"You bribed me, how could I say no?" you ask with a teasing smile.

"That's true, but I guess we're all still getting used to the new Sharpay."

"Is she really that horrible?"

Zeke smiles as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, "Not at all."

"Good, because that'd just be _tragic_."

"Yeah, it would. So, are you coming tonight?"

"Having a victory party?"

"Sort of. It's just going to be all seven of us though, at Troy's."

Is this really what you want to do? You ask yourself about twelve times over, still not coming to any definite answer. "I don't know Zeke, I think I might have to-"

"Wash your hair, or something else _super_ important?"

You shove Zeke to the side, an affronted look on your face. "I think you've been talking to me too much. I'm starting to rub off on you."

"Scary."

Then, his face really does show a look of horror as you shove him off of the sidewalk.

---

"Erghhh!" you shout in frustration. Your bed is littered with rejected outfits, jewelry is almost falling off of your dresser, and makeup runs down the edges of its confining containers.

"Sharpay?" Ryan asks meekly, poking his head in. In that moment he reminds you of your father; a smile comes to your face.

"Hey Ry."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine. I've just decided I have _no_ clothes."

Your twin raises an eyebrow as his concentration flits over to your canopy bed.

"Uh huh, I can see your problem," he replies sarcastically. Ah, that Evans' charm.

He enters the room slowly, almost afraid you'll ask him to leave. Your heart swells with regret as you think of the last conversation the two of you actually had. You would apologize, you think, if things were different; if perhaps, you weren't Sharpay Evans.

"So what's the big occasion anyways?"

"No occasion. That thing at Troy's tonight, did you forget?"

"Oh. _That_. I wasn't really planning on going. Actually, I didn't think you would either."

"Zeke hoodwinked me into it. You're not gonna come?"

"I'm not sure it'd be the best idea."

An explosion goes off in your head. _Is he serious?_ "Ryan, come on! You need to get over this eventually. You can't just go around letting these people control you."

"They're not controlling me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, they're just influencing you. When someone starts affecting the things I want to do then I know I need to actually deal with what's bothering me head on! You can't hide from them just because you're scared!"

"Damnit Sharpay, just mind your own business! I thought since the last time you would've understood that you've got nothing important to say to me!"

_Ouch._ "Fuck you, Ryan. Go cry your eyes out tonight because Gabriella isn't going to leave her goddamned boyfriend for you."

Fury burns deep beneath your brother's green eyes. "Go to hell, Sharpay," he says evenly.

_Whatever, _you think as you hold a pink Polo up to your torso. If he's stupid enough to kiss a chick with a quasi-boyfriend, then he deserves whatever turmoil he's in.

He storms out of your room, but right before he slams the door he mutters a "Wear the blue Abercrombie shirt and your Rock N' Republic Jeans. Troy always liked you in blue."

The slam echoes in the depths of your large house, and it takes you a full minute before you realize the last thing Ryan's said.

---

Seven o'clock finds you standing awkwardly on the Boltons back porch, waiting for someone to answer the door.

"Sharpay, hi." You're highly amused as Taylor opens the door and says her greeting. She's never been sure exactly how to act around you, always either being overly nice or just ignoring you.

"Hey Taylor," you give her a kiss on each cheek and revel in the fact that you can still shock people so severely.

"So how's the party looking?"

"Everyone's already here; Zeke's baking and the rest are all in the living room. It's this way," you nod in thanks as she points towards the room filled with large couches. Images cloud your mind of two young children throwing pillows at each other so hard feathers began to come out.

Taylor hangs back in the entranceway, saying she has to call someone-or-other, as you walk towards the kitchen to greet Zeke first.

"Shar!" he exclaims as he sees you, flour smudged on his cheeks.

You laugh gently, "Wow Zeke, did you manage to get _any_ of the flour in the bowl."

"Hey, I wouldn't poke fun at the man baking a caramel-fudge cake. You just might not get any."

You quirk an eyebrow and ask, "Man?" Most would think any statement with man and baking would be an oxymoron.

"That's it, everyone but Sharpay gets cake!" he shouts into the next room.

You hear Chads voice carry, shouting, "Yes! More for me!"

"_Whatever_," you say dramatically. Before you're fully through the archway connecting the kitchen to the living room, you turn your head and stick out your tongue.

"Yeah, 'cause that's real mature!"

Sitting in the room proves to be even more awkward than standing alone on a dimly lit porch. In one of the corners of the room are Jason and Kelsi speaking in hushed tones and in one of the others is... Chad and Gabriella? _Since when did they get so buddy-buddy_? You look as their heads are bent slightly towards each other and they have completely serious faces on. All you can think is, _what the fuck_?

Everyone's in their own little worlds, barely acknowledging your presence at all. Just then you feel the couch cushion bounce as extra weight plops onto it and you hear Troys voice greet you. Quickly you avert your eyes from their place on the corner, in the hopes he won't notice what you've been staring at. You don't know why, but for some reason you just don't want him to see the two of them talking so privately.

"Congrats, Wildcat," you say to distract him as his eyes follow your previous path.

His blue orbs light up with excitement at the mention of the game. "Thanks, we played a great game today."

"We? Don't you mean _you_?"

"C'mon Sharpay, you know I'm not really like that. Don't you?"

"Sure, sure. _So _sorry. So what's up, SBFF?"

"Not much. Basking in the glory of a job well-done."

"Basking? Jeez Troy, have you been studying your thesaurus or what?"

"Not my thesaurus, my dictionary."

"Right, of course."

"I don't know how you could have been so silly, _gosh_!"

"Ooh, good Napoleon Dynamite impression."

"Hey thanks! I've been practicing!"

"It shows."

You both laugh then, you at his excitement, him at his stupidity. It seems this move, though, has brought awareness to the rest of the room because suddenly you've got four new pairs of eyes on you.

"Sharpay, when did you get here?" Kelsi asks quietly.

"Just a few minutes ago."

"Hey Sharpay!" Gabriella greets enthusiastically as Chad begins to nonchalantly walk away. You notice Troy's eyes follow him.

"Hi."

A long two hours later your conversations still aren't any more... _substantial. _You all sit around in a circle, the cushions removed from the couches and placed under you on the floor. 'When A Stranger Calls' plays on mute, subtitles flicking across the picture of the big screen television (bought specifically to watch their twenty-five sports channels on), and everyone joins in on a random conversation. _These people_, you muse, _are about as deep as a puddle. _

You look at each of them in turn, observing as you most commonly do. As your gaze turns to Troy he flashes you a brief mischievous smile and a wink, as if he knows exactly what you're thinking.You notice they all have the same happy look on their faces. This all reminds you of a night not too long ago, except then Ryan sat by your side.

You move to give him a questioning glance, but the twinkle in his eyes is gone and suddenly he's animatedly recapping the game to Kelsi. You find yourself wondering, not for the first time, if it was all in your head.

* * *

a/n: Yeah, I don't remember what the big championship game in the movie was but just for the sake of the story let's say it was a League Championship game, which they won, and now have made it to the State Championships. Kay? I don't know if that makes sense because I don't know anything about school sports, if anyone wants to correct me or help out with that then feel free. 

Haha, I love High School Musical to death but does anyone but me think it's hysterical they beat Walk the Line for Best Soundtrack of the Year at the Billboard Music Awards ? Yeah, that was about the only part I saw when I walked by but I was like "no way they're gonna win" and then Jesse McCartney announced they actually did (_ahem_, he's actually the reason I stopped to watch in the first place ;D) and my jaw dropped. Then the laughing fit came. I love the music & all it just seems a little strange to me.

And does anyone else but me think Zac Efron's new faux-hawk thing is pretty hot ? I don't know, there's just something about it .

Well, review please !

till next time, lovelies ..x3

**song credit: Heels Over Head- Boys Like Girls**


	6. Sing

Your mind works fast, creating lies. Your pulse races, afraid of the outcome. But no one notices because, as usual, your face gives nothing away. In this one moment things could begin unraveling, until there's nothing left of you to discover. Everything you've been working so hard to preserve could fall apart, and it's all because your stupid Math teacher called in sick.

You glance a look at the substitute sitting in the front of the room. He's reading a _Sports Illustrated_, feet propped up on the desk before him, all the while looking horribly bored. As he introduced himself nearly ten minutes ago as Mr. Jay, he came straight out to say he was a Phys. Ed coach and had absolutely no idea what to do with an advanced Calculus class. Everyone around you sighed a breath of relief, even the nerds, when he decided to let you have a free period.

All the students then began rearranging their seats to sit with their friends, and you found yourself amongst the circle of Taylor, Chad, Kelsi, and Jason. Though the thought of talking with this group of Teen Dream Barbies for the next forty minutes annoyed you, you were at least thankful for the fact that the Scenestealer has this class during a different period. You're not so thankful that Zeke, or even Troy, aren't here though. Right now it's feeling as if you have no allies.

The group wasted no time in starting another one of their _thrilling _conversations; Kelsi told Taylor of her latest script while Jason started scribbling strategies in his notebook for the upcoming basketball game. That left only Chad and yourself with nothing to do, something completely dangerous. Chad saw your pink mp3 player sticking out of your Louis Vuitton purse and quickly snatched it. Before you even realized what he had done, he was flicking through the songs with one of your earbuds shoved in his ear. You didn't even want to focus on the disgusting thought of the speaker in his ear, you knew you'd have to severely sanitize it later.

Instead, your eyes went wide for a brief moment, leading you to your current predicament. Which lie should you use? There were so many, after all. He's not said anything about all of that "angsty rock crap" yet, and that fact unsettles you more than spoken words. The clicking of the wheel to sift through your almost 5,000 songs finally ceases, and Chad turns to you with raised brows.

"This is a pretty rad selection. Whose iPod is this?"

_Nice job, Chad,_ you think to yourself. He's just set up the perfect lie. "Oh, it's my cousin's. She left it at my house the other day and I keep forgetting to give it back."

"Tell your cousin she has good taste."

You nod your head as the short conversation comes to an end; it's actually the longest you've ever had with him at all. As he turns to point out a flaw in Jason's play, you feel a small smirk come to your lips.

_Another brilliant save by the Ice Princess_. But you know you're only safe for a while, at most.

---

Loudness is something you revel in. Once upon a time you used to wait for the silence because it gave you time to think, time to be alone, time to be yourself. But you've gotten too much silence over the years and found out firsthand what it can do to a person. As the void of sound passes around you, you're left to dissect every bit of your life. As if you don't do it enough as it is.

So now, you've come to hate the silence. The front door slams behind you as you walk into your house, and this time you're sure your mother isn't home to reprimand you for it. It's not anger or frustration sparking the loud _boom_ that echoes throughout your large home (even though you don't deny those are two feelings that are almost always with you). You just want to hear something besides the stupid voices of your peers. Stupid Kelsi and Gabriella and Taylor and Chad, and just all of them.

As you reach your room, you kick off the sparkly pink wedges from your feet, sending them to the wall with a loud crash. You waste no time in switching on your very expensive entertainment system, craving the soothing sounds of your music.

_So let go, so let go_

_Jump in _

_Oh, we're what you're waiting for_

The dulcet tones of comfort fill you entirely. But of course, with the luck you seem to have, you're barely content for a repeat of the chorus before your trance is broken. A short knock on the door, followed immediately by a turn of the knob, tells you exactly who it is. You scramble quickly for the remote control to the sound system, grabbing fistfuls of nothing but air and duvet.

She crosses the room calmly, quietly, and presses her index finger to the 'on/off' button.

"Do you require such noise whenever you are home?"

"Sorry, mother."

"_Sorry_," she mimics. "I find myself hearing that word a bit too often from you. Why is it you have so much to be sorry about?"

With any other person that would have been a rhetorical question, not for the woman of majestic beauty standing before you.

"I'm s- I mean, I don't know." _I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well._

She sighs, running a finger over your desk, checking for dust you suppose. "Perhaps I should enroll you in those Cotillion classes once again. I knew I should have never let you quit."

You snort, she's not the one who let you quit those damned masquerades of child abuse. You had gone to your father, crying, after being scolded by that old wench Mrs. Moore for messing up on the Waltz. No child should ever have to dance a waltz, you think. After quiet arguing, what your parents seem to be best at, it was decided you would indeed discontinue the lessons, as long as you put your all into your productions.

"Yes, mannerism lessons would be quite useful." You suppose that was a crack at the un-ladylike snorting.

"Whatever."

"Oh, and I will be calling Richard tonight. I have noticed you have not been working out every day as you promised you would. Trust me darling, it shows."

_What a bitch_, you think as she walks her haughty little walk out of your room. You pinch your stomach, grasping nothing but skin. To you, it doesn't seem like just skin though. Since puberty you've been dealing with the cracks at your weight. So often, you've become to see what it is your mother sees. Or at least, what she says she sees.

Before clicking the 'on' button on the remote you've just found, you resolve to go for a jog first thing in the morning.

---

School the next day is a bigger drag than usual. You try hard to fight off the onslaught of yawns (an unfortunate effect of waking up at five to run) but it doesn't seem to work very well.

"Late night?" you hear a voice next to you ask.

"Troy." It's a statement, not a question. You know it's him, but it's the first time he's ever come up to you at school _alone_.

"Yes, it is I, Troy the magnificent. Were you expecting fireworks or something."

"No, sorry. I was just surprised."

"Don't tell me you're that jumpy?"

"No, I've been well-trained in the horror movies department. Won't your adoring fans be disappointed you're spending time with the Ice Princess?"

"Probably. But hey, who cares. Right?"

Your first smile in days grazes your lips, "Right."

He doesn't stay much longer, his third period is on the opposite side of the building, but just long enough to make one of his oh-so-witty SBFF comments. Just long enough to make it seem like that smile won't ever come off of your face.

Things aren't always what they seem though, you know that.

As you round the corner you hear two voices coming from the music room. You're not nosy, no of course not, you'd just like to know what's going on in the room. They could be defacing property of the Drama Club! _Yeah, sure..._

"Chad, I just don't know what to do!" you hear a familiar voice shout. Your mouth forms a small 'o' as you recognize the voice of the Scenestealer. It's about time you've figured out what's truly going on between her and Troy's best friend.

"Gabriella, you've got to tell him. I can't take these secrets, they're driving me crazy!"

"I know it's hard for you, but don't you think it's even harder for me? I'm his girlfriend! I just hate having to lie about all of this. I can't tell him though. I just can't."

"We've got to, Gabs. It's the right thing to do."

"It will only complicate things even more! I know it's wrong Chad, but... it feels so right."

And that's all you need to hear. You trot down the hallway (the closest to a run you can manage in your stilettos) as a million thoughts run through your head. The most predominant, of course, is whether or not to tell Troy what you've just heard.

---

Back home, again. All alone, again. So where are you? Wrapped up in your bed, listening to the loud music coming from your stereo. How shocking a scene. Truly.

In the distance a dog barks, kids' laughter echoes, and a car alarm is set off. You're oblivious to it all, just lying there; not sleeping, but not all awake either. This is what gets you through the school day. Well, thoughts of this _and_ acting.

Because in all reality you can't go a full day without music. In fact, even a few hours is hard. It's your drug, your alcohol, your addiction- it's the air you breathe. No one's ever understood you, especially not in the way these artists-without-faces do. After a few years not even Ryan's comforting words were ever enough, they couldn't make you forget the pain of the breakdown. _There is beauty in the breakdown._

Everything reminds you of a song. Any sentence that flows from someone's mouth can be associated with some lyric you've heard, whether just yesterday, or years ago. As you watched Troy and Gabriella on stage in Twinkle Towne you were disappointed. Even if you would never admit it aloud, Kelsi's production truly was a play worthy of Broadway. For all they had done to make it as the two leads, they did their parts (and their songs) no justice.

There wasn't feeling in their voice, _and without conviction of heart you will never feel it at all_. Their tones changed, pitch wavered in all the right places, but you could tell they didn't love it- not as much as you do. When you're up on stage with the bright lights all but blinding you, you feel at home. Nothing else matters but the soft sound of the piano in the background, and the simple words you sing, laced with such heavy meaning. How can two people sing about heartbreak and rejection, if they've never experienced that emotion themselves?

Of course you need talent to act, but it's much more than that. You need the passion, the drive, the experiences, and the love of the action itself. You need to be able to go up on stage, in front of dozens of people, and play your heart out. By the time the climax of the show rolls around, you find yourself lost completely in the character you portray. Nothing else exists but the make-believe storylines and actors around you. All you know is the feeling in the moment, the feeling you _have_ to show. Even if it's a feeling you're not battling personally.

But isn't that how your everyday life goes, anyway?

_Start to breathe and fake a smile, it's all the same after awhile._

* * *

a/n: This chapter was a pain in the _you-know-where _to write. Apparently my muse decided to take a vacation (she's also quite tan, may I add). I've been planning this chapter for awhile now to explain Sharpay's love for music, and use of it as a refuge. I'm sure all of us can relate and I hope it played out well. I doubt there'll be an update in the next two days, so Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates that, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy belated Hanukkah! 

As always, reviews are optional, but much appreciated. They make the ultimate present (_hinthint_) ;)

**song credits: Let Go- Frou Frou**

**Vindicated- Dashboard Confessional**

**Autobiography of a Nation - Thursday**

**Come Back Down - Lifehouse**


	7. Guilt

a/n: **warning**- excessive cursing ahead.

* * *

"But if I wear the silver shoes and the blue dress I'll be wearing the same colors as Chelsea Whitaker! Gosh, this is _such_ a hard decision!" 

You inwardly smile at the looks on the faces around you. It's fun to toy with these people, make them second guess everything they've ever thought about you. One moment you're the Ice Princess, chilling everyone with your brashness; the next you're the sweet and innocent best friend; then you're the spoiled daddy's girl. Their eyebrows scrunch together and they stare you down, wondering which of these multiple personalities is really you. _Too bad they'll never really know._

Feeding time at the zoo is the only way to accurately describe lunch period at East High. You often wonder if the students around you can even breathe at the fast pace in which they inhale their food. You sit at the drama club's usual table on the second tier balcony, though oddly enough, you exclude almost everyone from the drama club. It's the usual suspects: Zeke, Troy, Taylor, Kelsi, Jason, and a sullen Ryan. Your conversations vary, each including your own personal interests to the point that no one even listens to each other. Or maybe it's just _you_ not listening to the loud blabber of sports, scholastics, and composing. Whatever.

Before you even realize what it is you're doing, you find yourself asking "Where's Chad and Gabriella?"

"Gym," and "Library," are said simultaneously from their respective significant others.

"Oh. They've both been missing a lot lately, haven't they?" _Insert foot in mouth._

Everyone looks ready to defend their two friends, when a light of realization shines on their faces. _You_ knew what you were saying was true, but none of them had put it together yet. _Uh oh._

"But I'm sure what they're doing is _really_ important!" you say quickly, trying to rectify the situation you've created.

"Yeah," Troy mumbles slowly, his face still with a look of concentration. You spare a glance at Taylor and notice she's looking awfully uncomfortable. You wonder if they're thinking the worst, just as you had.

"So how 'bout those Lakers?" Ryan asks. Everyone turns their head towards him, it's the first time he's spoke this week. His face is cool and relaxed, but beneath his green eyes you see pain. It seems he's thinking along the lines of everyone else. It's bad enough he had Troy as his competition for the brunette brainiac, but now Troy _and_ Chad?

It didn't matter at the moment- he had attained his goal. The subject was dropped.

---

The next day's free period finds you in the auditorium working on the melody of a song. By the time the next play comes around, you actually want to do your first non-recorded arrangement. Both you and your mother are set on you getting the lead role, and nothing (especially not a song) will jepardize your chances. You fumble, frustration overcoming you as you smack your hand angrily on the keys, and you hear a hollow "Sharpay?" called out to you. Your back goes rigid and before you even turn around, you already know who it is.

"Troy."

"Can we talk?"

You turn now, and even from the distance you can take in his haggard appearance. _What is this, _you wonder, _Sleepless in Albuquerque?_

"Sure, take a seat."

He takes a few long strides before reaching the stage and joining you on the piano bench. Your pulse quickens, but you're absolutely positive it's out of curiosity, not because of the boy sitting next to you. _No, of course not._

"Are you alright?"

"I couldn't sleep last night."

"Why?"

"I keep thinking about what you said yesterday."

"That Principal Matsui's on drugs?"

He cracks a waned smile, "No, about Gabriella... and Chad."

"Oh. Well, I didn't really mean anything by it." _Ahem, no of course not. How could the Scenestealer do any wrong?_

"Maybe not, but it just made sense. They always go M.I.A. at the same time and I barely talk to either of them anymore. I just, don't know if I'm way out of line with what I'm thinking. My best friend and my girlfriend? I'm out of line, right? Please tell me I'm out of line."

You want to reassure him because the look he's giving you breaks you down and rips at your heart. You can't bring yourself to cover up for them anymore, you've always had no respect for cheaters.

"Troy, I've gotta tell you something." You take a deep breath, still wondering if this is the best option. "The other day I overheard them in the music room. What they were saying, I don't know, it just didn't seem _right._"

His eyes turn as wide as saucers. "FUCK!"

You're taking aback, it's the first time you've ever heard him like this. His swear echoes in the empty room, the anger in his voice ringing true each and every time.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to rip that bushy haired, backstabbing, asshole to shreds."

"Troy!" you take his hands, halting his squeezing the empty air as if it was Chad's neck. "You need to calm down!"

"How do you expect me to calm down? My girlfriend is cheating on me!"

And before you can react, he pulls away from your grip and stomps to the hallway, door slamming behind him. _This can't be good._

---

You've followed him to the gym, the library, the cafeteria, and even the auto shop, but neither Gabriella nor Chad has been found. You're wondering what this emotion coming over you is. Surely it can't be sympathy, but then why are you trying to protect her? It seems not even you can understand yourself anymore.

You hear Troy mutter another string of swears and something that sounds suspiciously like "they better not fucking be up there," before he climbs steps leading to a place you've never seen before. Before following him, you see the rest of your little posse, brother included, and call them over.

Lo and behold, there they are. Their expressions are startled as they sit closely on a bench, the bright blue New Mexico sky as their backdrop. The plants sway lightly in the breeze, but you don't notice their beauty. All you can see is the pure rage radiating off of Troy.

"Troy, man, what's up?"

"What's up? Why don't you tell me what's up?"

"What's got you so heated?"

"Let's see, if your supposed _best friend _and _girlfriend_ were sneaking around behind your back, wouldn't you be heated?"

"Yeah, I would. Do you know something I don't?" _Stupid jocks._

"Chad, just give it up. I know, alright. We all do!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." _Big surprise._

"Chad, he thinks _we're_ the ones sneaking around?" Little Miss Scenestealer says with a face of shock.

"What?"

"Don't even deny it!" Troy says, getting in his face. "Did you two think you were being stealth or something? Every time one of you wasn't around, the other wasn't either. You're both sick as shit! How could you fucking do that to me? To Taylor?"

You look at your friends now, for the first time since they've joined you. Taylor looks as if tears are about to fall from her eyes. Kelsi and Jason both watch on grimly. You imagine it's not easy to watch something so perfect fall to pieces unexpectedly. Ryan, you notice, seems to have the faintest trace of tears in his eyes as well.

"Calm down, Troy!" Chad shouts.

"I'm not gonna fucking calm down! You know what, you stupid dick, don't come near me! Don't talk to me! Don't even look at me! You and me, we're done!"

Chad's anger is now obviously apparent, "Shut the hell up Troy because maybe if you did then you'd know that I'm not the asshole who stole your girlfriend! Why don't you fucking ask Ryan what happened!"

_Silence._

And then Troy turns, walking dangerously fast to where Ryan's standing. He raises his fist and you jump between him and your brother.

"Sharpay, move." he growls.

"No."

"Move, Sharpay!"

"No."

"Why are you trying to protect him? Dammit Sharpay, he made my girlfriend cheat on me!"

"You know what Troy, I'm sick of this! Let's not pretend for one minute that Ryan's the only one at fault here. It takes two to tango, buddy and I hate to break it to you, but Gabriella screwed up just as bad. But are you going to be angry at her? No, of course not. After this all blows over things are just going to go back to the way they were. You're such a stupid hypocrite.

"Go talk to your girlfriend, Troy. Go see why she's felt the need to keep whatever happened away from you. Go talk to her and ask her why the fuck she could talk to Chad, but not you."

His eyes widen and his expression turns defeated. Everyone around you waits with baited breath, waiting to see what he'll do next. None of them, not even you, can believe what you've just said to Troy Bolton of all people. It seems the Ice Princess has made her return. Or, maybe the Mountain Lion.

You walk away, simple as that. Before anyone gets the chance to respond, you're out the door of whatever gardens you were in. You don't want to hear anything he wanted to say. Nothing, to you, could justify what he was about to do to your twin. What does he think, that he could just beat him and you'd stand there watching? _He's the dick._

Troy Bolton was always an angel in your mind. Even when you were angry about the play tryouts, you never once got mad at Troy. Gabriella got all of the blame in your mind while he remained on a pedestal. Epiphanies, you find, come at the most random moments.

---

_And here we go again  
With all the things we said  
And not a minute spent  
to think that we'd regret  
So we just take it back_

You lay in bed, listening to music, looking to it for the answers to your burning questions. What are you supposed to do now? Was what you did right? What happened with Troy and Gabriella? Troy and Chad?

What-?

What-?

What-?

What if-?

What if-?

What if-?

A million times you think the same thoughts, the same questions, coming up with no answers. And suddenly your heart clenches with regret. If Chad lunkhead-basketball-boy Danforth can support Gabriella and help her through a problem, it seems scary you couldn't do that to your own brother.

Within moments you're out of your room and down the hall.

He mumbles a groan in recognition to the knock, you take it as encouragement, entering his bedroom quietly. He's sprawled out on his king sized bed, right arm folded beneath his head. The blinds around the room are all pulled down, blocking out the bright afternoon sun. His room is dark, depressing, and blue. It's funny how a room can mirror it's inhabitant.

"Ryan?"

"What?" His tone isn't bitter as you're used to, instead a more resigned defeat. You'd much rather hear him bite your head off, his silence is killing you.

"Are you alright?"

"My friends all hate me. What do you think?"

"Did they tell you that?"

"They didn't need to. You were right Sharpay, I was an idiot thinking that Gabriella would ever break up with Troy for _me._"

"Woah, woah, woah. You're not serious, are you? Troy Bolton is no better than you are. Gabriella would be the luckiest girl in the world to even have you as an _option_. You know me, Ryan. I say things I don't mean when I'm mad and they always happen to be stupid comments. Don't even worry about them."

"Is this your ass-backwards way of apologizing?"

You crack a smile. "I guess it is."

"Well, you're forgiven."

"I'd better be. Otherwise-"

He quirks an eyebrow. "I won't have any one to beat up Troy for me?"

"Precisely."

You both squeal with laughter as you jump onto his bed, attacking him with hugs and sloppy kisses on his cheeks. And even though outside of these four walls lies the rest of the ugly world, you feel a beautiful content in the moment.

* * *

a/n: I'm thinking of doing a one-shot companion piece to this story using Ryan. It'll show his thoughts during this whole story. What do you guys think? 

Happy New Years, guys! All of you, legal or not, try not to get too twisted! Justt kidding ;)

**song credit: Here We Go Again - Paramore //** _(FuzzyPenguins) I had that one planned for awhile. Hope you liked it_ :D


	8. Snap

You're in that limbo between the realms of sleeping and waking. It's a sensation not unfamiliar to you; you find yourself in this position whenever you have too much to think about. It's during these strange moments when you can't quite tell if you really have been awake the whole night, or if all of this is just a dream. You turn over onto your other side, desperate for the feeling of relaxation, but it doesn't come as quickly as you want it to. Just as you find the muscles in your body loosening, and the thoughts swirling around your head slow, the beloved iHome alarm clock goes off. It really must be something in the Albuquerque water lately that's causing so many teenage residents to be losing so much sleep.

_I never wanna be part of the herd_

_I guess I was, in case you haven't heard_

You bolt up in your bed, trying to kick the covers off of yourself but failing and they instead tangle around your legs. As you land with an awkward -bump- on the floor, you scramble to turn off the loud device, hoping you can squeeze in just a few minutes of sleep before another day begins. 7:30 flashes at you, mocking you and the dark circles under your eyes. You know, unfortunately, you don't have enough time to power nap. Picking yourself up from the heap of bed dressings on the floor, you resign to begin your every morning routine. _So exciting._

_Maybe you can tell that I can't stand_

_The way I want to be the included_

Your music still plays as you half-heartedly go through the all too monotonous motions of getting dressed. The song, it seems, is the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto your wooden floor in exhaustion. You imagine that would leave an awfully unpretty bruise.

_I always want to be a mystery_

_I always knew that two and two made three_

In lieu of your recent epiphanies, you've questioned who exactly it is you've been dressing up for every damn day of your life. Sure, you like to look good, favoring the clean-cut preppy style over others your peers prefer, but you've found it's not entirely necessary to spend so much time picking out the "perfect" outfit. You know perfect doesn't exist, not by a long shot.

So you throw on your favorite pair of jeans, a cropped tweed blazer, and your most comfortable pair of flats. Not having enough time to glamorously style your hair, it falls down your back in its natural state of loose waves. _Today,_ you find,_ is a sweatpants and hoodie kind of day._ But, your schoolmates would probably drop dead from the shock of seeing you so casual. Everyone else around East High has "changed," or so they claim, but if the Ice Princess did, then you imagine people would be looking for pigs flying outside of the dusty classroom windows.

As you add the minor finishing touches to your appearance, you flick off the lights and grab your iPod out of its dock. Leaving it behind, today of all days, is definitely _not_ an option. Before its disconnected, you enjoy the last few lines (for now) of your latest favorite song.

_I wish away the time I'm living in_

_I never wanna see the smile again_

Then it's paused in its place so you can pick up from there later. Judging by the way you think the day will go, you'll be hearing the rest of the song pretty soon. But you're reaching your last few minutes of serenity, so you banish the unpleasant thoughts from your head.

The kitchen is eerily quiet as you enter it this morning. Usually Ryan's already down here, eating his daily bowl of cereal, or your mother takes a seat at the island with a large home design magazine to look through. Sometimes, when he's home that is, your father's even down here early, talking loudly on his cell phone. Essentially, the kitchen is never empty or devoid of so much sound.

As you reach in the Pop-Tart box, going for your favorite Hot Fudge Sundae variety, a smile graces your face at the thought that you're almost home free. You've thought too soon though, because just as the pantry door closes your mother appears. She's already exquisitely dressed for such an early hour in the morning, and her stylish reading glasses adorn her face as she carries a thick novel in her arm. It's times like these when she looks almost human. _Almost._

"Is that what you plan on wearing?" she asks, sliding the glasses away from her eyes momentarily so she can see you entirely.

"As a matter of fact, it is."

"Well _darling_, I would strongly advise against it."

"Why? I think I look pretty hot."

"Hot? Then I suppose that just explains it all."

You angrily take a bite out of your surely _nutritious_ breakfast; you thought you'd have her speechless with your last comment. And then you wonder - if you can change some of the other things going on in your life, why can't you change this?

"What's your problem, mother? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"I am quite sorry if it offends you that I do not want my daughter walking around looking like trash."

"Trash? What the hell, mom? I'm wearing _Dior._ How can that _ever_ be classified as trash?"

"Torn jeans, Sharpay? I am not quite sure which answer I would rather hear: that you actually bought your blue jeans ripped, or you are still wearing them even though they are ripped."

"Hmm," you mock think. "It's a little bit of both, I'd say."

"Either way, you look entirely inappropriate for a woman in this family."

"Whatever."

"Whatever, is that all you ever say? I swear, I am going to need to do something about the way you carry on. You would think that with all of these acting lessons I have paid for that you could at least pretend to have class."

It's about now that something inside of you cracks. You never thought you'd ever see the day where you'd let something she said to get to you so bad that you'd actually go off on her. _It must be the stress._

"What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you? You criticize me every damn day, I'm your goddamned daughter! Okay? Your goddamned daughter who doesn't deserve any of this shit that you throw at her! I've never done anything to you.

"You used to be my fucking role model. I looked up to you. You were so nice and giving that I thought 'man, one day I'm gonna be like her and she'll be so _proud_ of me.' I guess I was wrong, huh? You never gave a damn about me, only about dressing me up and flaunting me as your Barbie doll of a daughter. I'm _not_ a Barbie and I'm _not_ plastic, unlike you. The things you say really fucking hurt me, okay?"

"If that's the way you feel, _sweetheart_, the door is always open. You can leave anytime."

With a slam of the door you're out of the house. How sad is it, when school turns into your safe haven? You get in the car you and Ryan share, he usually ends up driving though because he always seems to be ready first. Even though you've had some sort of semi-feud going on the past days, at least there was the comfort in knowing he was still in the seat next to you, in case you ever really needed him.

You hate that today just so happens to be the day your father picked for some stupid father-son bonding camping thing. Two whole days of fishing, peeing outdoors, and being eaten alive by bugs - you just can't understand the allure of the concept. It's too bad your father and brother do though, this little trip happens every time he returns, and once again you're left with the true Ice Queen herself.

You get to school quickly, for the most part you've missed the A.M. traffic near all of the Elementary, Middle, and High Schools. Now that you've arrived, the pessimistic voice in the back of your head returns full force. The nagging voice reminds you that today you truly are alone; today you'll have to face Troy Bolton after you screamed at him and gave a noble attempt at pulling the Scenestealer from her pedestal. It seems there's no way to tarnish the halo she wears, that was made all too obvious yesterday.

If, you know, you had cared -at all- you might find it the _least_ bit funny Troy had slipped up and used a line from "The O.C." when he was fighting with Chad. But, of course, you don't care. Not one little,_ teensytiny_, bit. _Seriously._ Now, all you've got to do is convince yourself.

As you sit through your morning classes, you have absolutely no idea what's happening in any of them. You daydream often, especially during lectures, but at least you have some (though normally vague) idea of what's going on. This morning, all you hear are random words here and there which won't make sense if you ever try to sting them together to form a tangible sentence. All you hear are your thoughts that revolve around people who have done nothing but cause trouble for you and your brother.

It doesn't even seem worth it, having them around you. Back before Christmas Break it was just the Evans twins against the world, anyone trying to get in your way be damned. You didn't need anybody, and you still don't. Having "friends," or at least these ones, is too much trouble. Ever since you've begun to allow them access to your life, you've found yourself regretting it. You should've backed down and gave them the full brunt of your icy exterior. Now everything's just gone too far.

The bell rings, disturbing you from another long-winded speech in your head. You try to remember which class you're in so you can figure out where to go next, but the haze surrounding you is too thick. After sitting in your desk a couple minutes longer, you discern that free period has come at last.

Even though it could very possibly be a bad idea, you head towards the auditorium in hopes that it'll be empty. Tryouts for the Spring Musicale are coming up next week and your song still needs more work. Predictably, it's not empty at all. Instead, it's filled with your _favorite_ people in the _entire_ world.

The "Golden Group" has themselves spread around the large room. Kelsi's up on stage sitting at the piano while Zeke watches in interest, Chad and Jason are painting a large backdrop with Taylor most likely commanding them, and in the front row you see the sight that sickens you the most. In the far corner seats are the Basketball Boy and the Scenestealer sitting _awfully_ close. You shouldn't be surprised they've made up already. On some level, you suppose, you knew it would happen. You had just hoped they both had more sense than that.

Another confrontation is the last thing you need right now; all you wanted was to work on your audition piece. Before you can make an exit, the door you entered from finally closes. Loudly. You cringe at the sound, and suddenly you've got six sets of eyes on you. _Just freaking fantastic._

Nobody makes a move, until Chad does something he'll surely regret: he shivers. Everyone's eyes dart between you, him, and the couple up front. You find it ironic that this is the boy who refers to you as "the Mountain Lion," when it feels like you yourself are entering the Lion's den.

Jason elbows his teammate roughly in the ribs, but he does nothing but sputter a stupid "what?" The six pairs of eyes still focus on you, expecting a dramatic display. _Why disappoint them? _you think snidely. Because at this moment, you decide to damn it all to hell. It seems you're on a roll with letting out your emotions today, why stop now? Months worth of thoughts and feelings come piling through your head, feelings you've suppressed for way too long.

"Why don't you all just take a picture?" you ask, voice projecting so loudly you're certain they've all heard you.

"Hey Shar," Kelsi mumbles.

"Don't 'hey Shar' me," you walk swiftly down the aisle to come upon stage right. "Who do you all think you are? Can I ask? Seriously, look at yourselves! You're all full of shit."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Chad asks.

"Well dumbass, it's supposed to mean exactly what it sounds like. You all want so badly to break free, huh? Well look around, none of you have! You all go around pretending you're so perfect! It's sickening!"

"Well what about you, Ice Princess? Don't act like you're all perfect!"

"Trust me, I'm not. At least I have the sense to know that I'm not fucking perfect. You're only lying to yourselves in the long run. You're playing right into everybody's hands. Look at you, you're not the least bit individual. You're all the fucking same, trying to blend in and hide yourselves among the crowd. Hmm, have I mentioned you make me sick?"

"Sharpay, what is this all about? Why are you fighting us?" Taylor asks thoroughly angered. You laugh inwardly as her nostrils flare unattractively.

"Why? Because I'm sick and tired of you all! I'm sick of walking down the hallway and having people fucking _shivering_ like they're so clever, because they're really not." You notice with satisfaction that Chad looks down at his shoes embarrassedly.

"I'm sick of everyone in this school comparing me to all of you just because we're all supposedly friends. Well let me tell you something, friends don't talk about friends behind their backs! Friends don't laugh at you when you get a problem wrong in Chem. or joke about you buying mirrors in your spare time. You're all pathetic if you think any of you actually acted like a friend towards me."

And then you're down the stairs to see your favorite couple. _Gagchokecoughsneeze_. Sneeze? Either way, you turn your furious tirade on them.

"And _you_, God, you two are the worst. What did I say, now that the confrontations are over you and your perfect girlfriend can get back to your perfect relationship. How _perfect._ I knew that the minute you were done showing off to Ryan that you'd go back to her. But wow, how could I have been so stupid to actually think that maybe, just maybe, something I said got through your thick skull!

"I hope you two are happy together. Really. Because you both deserve each other. It's good to know she's been forgiven so easily but me and Ryan are going to be the outcasts for the rest of our lives. It's really, just _so_ good to know how you really feel about us."

"Sharpay," Troy tries. He's ignored. He got the chance to prove himself yesterday. All he proved was he's a hypocritical coward.

"While the two of you were happily giving each other Eskimo kisses and watching the sun rise, celebrating merrily the fact that you beat me and my brother for the play, did you ever once think about us? Did you ever once think 'gosh, Sharpay and Ryan really seem to like doing those plays. Maybe it's the only thing they've actually got going for them. Maybe it's been their dream since they were two years old! Maybe we came along and stole it all from them!' Did you ever once wonder?

"No, of course not. You were too busy thinking that me and Ryan were the villains_. Oh yes_, you've got us pegged. We really are selfish bastards who have nothing better to do with our lives so we go out of our way to tear people down and secure the lead role in every play. _Wow_, you guys are _good_. Congrats guys, you win the Ignorant Award of the Year. You should be so freakin' proud. Go display it in your rooms next to your Scholastic Decathlon and Basketball trophies.

"Good for you, winning something else. Because, you know, you didn't have enough already. You didn't already have the school hopelessly in love with you. Thanks a lot, guys, perhaps you should win a Humanitarian Award for your efforts, too."

"Sharpay," Gabriella tries this time. You still won't hear it.

"Don't speak, Gabriella. Since you came here you've done nothing but make me feel worse about myself. I'm not an Ice Princess, I'm not a Mountain Lion, and I'm not a robot. I'm just Sharpay Evans. Like it or not this is all I'm ever gonna be. I honestly don't care what any of you have to say about me anymore. I'm done hearing the same lifeless crap over and over again. I'm done with always trying to compare. I'm just, done.

"I tried to be a better person, tried to prove myself to you. There was a part of me that still wanted to fit in with you guys, no matter how much it didn't seem that way. I kick myself now, over and over, for ever even considering it. Because what it all comes down to in the end is whatever I do is never going to be good enough. I've accepted that, and the fact that none of you will ever open your eyes and see people for who they really are, flaws and all."

You storm back up through the aisles, flats making a soft padding sound on the linoleum, and you walk out the door. You never turn to see their faces. You don't care about their reactions. _Won't Ryan be pleased_, you think sarcastically. Yes, surely he'll be ecstatic when he comes home to find you've severed all ties with your only friends.

Just then, you feel your Sidekick vibrate in your purse. As you flip it open you read the text message you've just received from him: _Keep your head up high, soldier._ You give a small smile, thanking God for the twin telepathy you never thought existed until now.

* * *

a/n: It's what we've all been waiting for - she finally broke ! _Cue more drama .._

Just so all you guys know, I've gone back and edited some things in this so that they flow with the HSM timeline better. Originally I ignored it because I wanted it to match up with now, but it's going to cause too much of a problem very soon so instead of Thanksgiving, the Evans and Boltons celebrated Easter. Also, this was originally supposed to start out right after Scenestealer and the night of the play. Since I've never mentioned it directly, it's a bit easier to change. This story officially begins about two months after. I figure Twinkle Towne would have actually opened sometime in February, making this start right at the end of March/beginning of April. Other than that there's not really any change that will affect this too much.

I can't believe this is already chapter 8! Which means (if I stick to my original plans) there's only two more chapters left. Please review guys, I love hearing from new people & the ones who take the time to review every chapter. It really means a lot to me both ways : )

* * *

Okay so now, **Lali: **_You're actually my first non-user reviewer so I didn't know what to do to reply. Hope this works for you, I just didn't want an email to get sent to spam or anything. When I see Sharpay in the movie I don't necessarily think 'oh she must have _so_ many family problems at home,' just that she's not going to be incredibly excited at the thought of losing everything she's apparently worked so hard for. I think towards the end of the movie Disney really screwed up her character. It's also good to find someone else who didn't like Gabriella in the movie because I didn't- at all. And I, unlike Disney, think she's bound to screw up sometimes, whether she likes it or not._

_Thanks for reviewing, I'm so glad you like the story._

* * *

_**song credit: Take a Drink - Quietdrive**_


	9. Flee

_Mother says I was a dancer before I could walk_

_She says I began to sing long before I could talk_

_And I've often wondered, how did it all start?_

When you're bored, you find you notice the little things. The ceiling fan above you spins in lazy circles, with a slight wobble that makes you think, when you stare too hard, it might just collapse onto you. There are approximately two hundred and fifteen nicks all over the four posts of your bed. Your ceiling raises at a forty-five degree angle. As the rain falls onto the tree next to your window, it has a steady pattern of _drip-drip-drop-driiiiiiip._ None of this matters, but it's what you do. When the world gets to be too much your brain just turns off to save itself from the pressure.

_Who found out that nothing can capture a heart_

_Like a melody can?_

A smile starts on your face as the words flowing from your speakers finally register. You remember that day, not so long ago, when you and Ryan secretly used your parents' credit cards to buy yourself plane tickets and accomodations in New York City. They were both out of the country at that time; it was only a few days after the Twinkle Towne debacle. Your parents were furious when they eventually found out, your dad insisted that if only you had asked then he certainly would've bought you both the tickets.

Neither of you cared; it was liberating. You remember taking your first few steps onto the New York City sidewalks and just twirling around hopelessly. Only a few passersby looked on, it was somewhat of a usual sight there. In that city no one knew that you were the Ice Princess. No one knew you had just been beaten out for the lead role you'd looked forward to all year. No one knew anything about you, and that in itself was liberating.

_Without a song or a dance, what are we?_

When scouting out musicals, your brother insisted upon "Mamma Mia." You laughed along, thinking he was kidding--surely he couldn't want to see a show about Abba?--but when you saw how serious he was, you relented. It was then you realized Abba had been one of your mother's favorite groups from _way_ back in the day. To your surprise, you actually liked the show, and found it quite different than what you originally thought. Before you ran out of the theatre, at the plea of your grumbling stomachs, you managed to pick up a CD (which Ryan usually insisted on playing in the car).

_So I say thank you for the music_

_For giving it to me_

Your memory is cut short. The door downstairs opens, meaning only one possible thing: mummy dearest has returned from wherever it is she's gone. You don't want to deal with her, especially not now, not after the day you've just had. It's then that you resolve to do something you never once thought you'd do when faced with a problem. You resolve to run. After all, the door's "wide open."

_I've been so lucky, I am the girl with golden hair_

**---**

It's quiet again. Your mother's probably storing all of her latest purchases in her never-ending closet, or something like that. So you begin your walk, feet barely making a sound in your ballet flats. You don't bother knocking once you reach the solid oak door. You throw it open, hoping to catch her off guard but the room's empty. You sigh, just wanting to get this over and done with; the bag on your shoulder is getting heavier by the moment.

The stairs uncharacteristically squeak (probably from the added weight to your petite frame) and you cringe, hoping the sound hasn't alerted her of your nearness. Living room? No. Study? Nope. Sunroom? No such luck. The only other room on the first floor is the kitchen.

Alas, there she is, writing down a list of some sort. She looks up quickly, glasses sliding down her nose unintentionally. She looks like one of those disapproving teachers in the movies. She doesn't speak, for once in her life, and you take advantage of the moment. Out of a side pocket in your messenger bag you pull out a picture that is all too familiar. When you ripped it from your sock drawer (where it's been tucked away carefully for years) just moments before, you didn't even bother to look at it; you didn't need to, you have every square centimeter memorized.

You throw it on the counter quickly and you see her stare confusedly at the folded picture in her hand. She undoes the creasing and a look of recognition appears in her eyes as she takes the photo in. The photo of two smiling blondes, without a care in the world. Before you turn to walk away you see her turn over the picture, eyes scanning the back where you know are 6 simple sentences written. Simple, yet so complex in the understanding.

Before she gets to comment, you're out the door and close to sprinting down your driveway. _Let her know what it's like_, you think snidely as you jump over some rose bushes and continue on down the street. You don't want to see her expression, you don't want to hear her voice. You know what the back says, it's had those words written in black Sharpie for some time.

_"**I'm sure I've played this scene before, I've seen this room and I've walked this floor.**_  
**_I'm sure I used to hold your hand, did I hurt you?  
All this attitude with no history, all this anger when you're attacking me.  
Got a lot to learn and you need to know that your time is up.  
Maybe someday you will grow, maybe someday you will know, maybe someday you will _**_end these tears and go._  
**_A little piece of me grows old, I keep on walking down this road._**  
_**I've seen a million people change, but I will stay the same.**"_

You can just picture her in your mind: looking, reading, and then laughing. Whatever, it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing does. Except for that lost sense of freedom that's been abandoned for so long.

**---**

The weather's getting warmer now, reminding you that summer's only a few weeks away. Just three months and you'll get your, much needed, break from the halls of East High.

The sky has never looked more beautiful, you think. At first glance it's a fair pink, but if you look deep enough towards the quickly fading sun, vivid orange and purple hues are visible. The sky just serves as a testament to something you already knew - the world keeps turning, lives keep living, and beauty still remains, even if your current predicament masks your ability to see it.

It's easy though, to become so self-absorbed when focusing on your own problems. Sure, you've just run away from home, but there are people out there dying. But then again, there are people out there _living._ In moments of self-reflection you hate your selfishness.

So as the dangling leaves of the willow gently graze your arm, you promise yourself something. You promise to stop taking things so seriously - to stop taking yourself so seriously. This park you're in, it serves as a reminder of good things past. But you want to, one day, be able to look back on your childhood memories and not have tears gather in your eyes. You want to be able to look at the photographs of your sixth birthday and not feel this gaping hole in your chest. You don't want to be one of those girls who become so jaded they can never enjoy anything again.

Goosebumps travel up your arms now. The sun is almost completely hidden over the horizon and the soft breeze of the tree, whose trunk you rest on, is causing you to shiver. The cold is not something you particularly mind, but you know you'll have to leave sooner rather than later. You just wish you knew where to go.

You begin to slowly walk away, taking time to first pump your legs on the swings for just a minute. In your mind, you clearly see two blonde children trying desperately to get higher than the other. Their laughter echoes so true it feels like you're there again.

Once your eyes open you clearly see two blonde children, this time playing tag around the see-saw. They're real, this you know, because they do look familiar in the way their eyes shine in delight, but they're not those two kids who run through your head whenever you allow yourself to dream for too long. You flash a smile in their direction, though you're sure they haven't even noticed you, and you begin to leave the park. The park has served its purpose for you; it will forever remain in your heart as a homage to your younger self, but now it's time for a whole new generation of kids to enjoy it as their pillar.

So where do you go now that it seems you really have nothing left? To the last place, besides here of course, that you felt safe. But is there even such a place for you?

---

That familiar sensation of entering the Lion's den consumes you once again. You hate the feeling, you admit -the nervousness, the vulnerability. You always seem to find yourself in these situations, though.

Your feet shuffle awkwardly and you clutch the bag on your side tighter. Just ten seconds longer and you're leaving. 10-9-8-7-

"Sharpay!" a voice greets you enthusiastically. "What a surprise! If I had known you were coming over I would've gotten some snacks."

You smile at the kindness. "You don't need to do anything special for me, Mrs. Bolton."

"I'll let that formality slide if you have a cup of tea with me before you go up to see Troy."

"Sounds good, Marie." Your first real, non-bittersweet, smile graces your features for the day.

Close to an hour passes as you sit at the island counter and drink the sweet liquid. Your mind flashes back to that same little blonde girl, this time chasing around a brown-haired boy while adults look on in amusement. It seems like a lifetime ago.

It _was_ a lifetime ago. Because in that other life you weren't Sharpay Evans: Ice Princess, you were the sweet little "girl next door." It's been awhile, sure, but you still make conversation as easily as if you still were that little girl. But then again, maybe you are.

"Well, you've done your duty. Thank you, Sharpay, for keeping an old woman company. Troy should be upstairs in his room."

You laugh lightly, give the woman a hug, and put your cup in the sink. It's now or never. As you step onto the carpeted staircase, you think you've never seen one as long or foreboding.

You knock softly on the closed door and your feet begin to shuffle unconsciously again. And you wait, and wait, but there's no answer. Is it possible he's not home? No way. His mother _always _knows where he is, it's like she's got some kind of freaky sixth sense or something.

Screw waiting around, Sharpay Evans waits for no one. With the jerk of a hand you open the door and Troy shoots up from his bed in fright.

"Holy hell!" he shouts, pulling the headphones away from his ears.

Then his eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

"Sharpay? What are you doing here? I thought you, like, hated my guts or something."

But he's still the same, sweet, little boy he's always been. You see that as he clears a pile of dirty clothes off of his computer chair and motions for you to sit. You do, but make sure to shut the door first. You're not quite sure you'd like to tar the wholesome image his mother has of you.

"I don't hate you," you say quietly. "At least, I don't think I do."

He heaves a sigh and you know you're screwing with his mind the way you run so hot and cold. "Then what was yesterday about?"

"Remember when we were in Pre-K and we were playing on the jungle gym in the playground? We were pretending we were the King and Queen, or something. You asked me if there was anything I wanted you to get for me."

He gives you a puzzled glance. "Okay. But what does that have to do with--"

"Do you remember what I said?"

"Not really."

"I told you that my life was perfect, and there was no way I could ask for anything more."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I wish I could be that little girl again. And I wish I could say that to someone today, without lying."

"So then yesterday was just pent up emotions finally exploding?"

"Like a volcano."

"It makes more sense now, I guess. You should've seen everyone after you left. They were all just quiet for a minute, then Taylor flipped a shit. No one could understand what made you snap like that."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Did you _flip a shit_, as you so eloquently put it?"

He laughs a little. "You know, I don't think I said anything after you left. I was way too confused."

"Do you get it now?"

"Sort of. But hey, Chad once said to me something that actually made sense. He told me the female mind was dangerous territory. I have to say I agree. I can't even tell whether or not I should be mad at you right now."

"For what it's worth, I really hope you aren't. The last thing I need right now is another enemy."

"What you _need_ is to find a better way to let your anger out. Take up kickboxing or something."

"Oh, thanks. You're just a spout of wisdom, aren't you?"

"Pssh, you know it!"

A laugh escapes involuntarily as he pumps his arms in the air. You're not one hundred percent sure what you expected when you came here, but you know now that it was worth it.

"Troy, look, I'm not going to say I'm sorry for saying what I did because I meant it all. I am sorry for how I said it though. I guess I could've been a little nicer about it, maybe."

"Sharpay," he begins, and pulls a folding chair for himself to sit on. "You're probably one of the most complex people I've ever met in my life. One second you're nice and buddy-buddy with me, then the next you're completely tearing me to shreds."

"I know, I know. I suck, alright? I know I do.

_Silence._

"Um, this is the part where you're supposed to jump in and say 'oh no Sharpay, you don't suck!'"

"Oops. I never really was good at taking cues."

You punch him lightly on the arm, and he gives an overexaggerated wince. And you find yourself wondering when exactly Troy Bolton became one to use sarcasm and dramatic antics. No one at East High would've ever guessed.

So you make some remark about him being a traitor, accentuated by childishly sticking out your tongue, and there's a lapse in conversation. You've always hated tense silences like this because to break them people usually say stupid things that they regret later. Example 1: you asking Troy if he thinks his parents would mind you staying the night.

You had hoped to ease into the conversation, once you two had wholly mended your odd little friendship, or even better just passed out there 'coincidentally' after watching a long movie. But now you're faced with the task of creating a lie to your seemingly out-of-the-blue question.

"Are you kidding? My mom would be thrilled. Ever since Easter she's been talking non-stop about you."

"Glad I've made a good impression on _someone_ lately."

"Oh yeah. In fact, I think the statue she's having built of you is being delivered next weekend?"

"From France?"

"Of course. Only the best."

"That's all I ask."

"So, why the sudden urge to be close to the Boltons?" _There it is, the dreaded question._

"Well it's not really all of the Boltons I want to be close to, just you. Damn, I thought I was being subtle about it too."

"So you've joined my fan club, then?"

"Almost. The top nine reasons Troy Bolton is dreamy? Those are the easy ones. It's number ten that's really a bitch to come up with."

"Ha. Ha. Ever so witty, aren't we Ms. Evans?"

"Well I do try."

"So seriously, why do you wanna stay here tonight? Parents out of town?"

"Eh, my dad and Ryan are in a tent in the middle of the woods and I think my mom's going out somewhere. I just figured that maybe we could try to get things back to the way they used to be, you know? I guess I've just been feeling a little nostalgic. And, of course, I wanted to make sure there weren't any hard feelings between us."

"Fair enough. I'll go ask my parents, so you can pretty much start rolling out the sleeping bag already."

"Like, oh my gosh! Will there be pillow fights and ghost stories?"

"All in due time, my friend."

And as the door clicks behind him you can't help the satisfied smile from spreading across your face. Score one for Sharpay. You just hope everything else can begin to work in your favor.

* * *

a/n: _Le sigh._ This really didn't come out like I expected it to - it's not nearly as dramatic as I planned it to be. Oh well, it _has _been awhile since I've updated so I guess I kind of lost what I originally wanted. The past three weeks have been really crazy, what with midterms (that I completely forgot I had!) and going on a brief Veronica Mars kick and watching almost all of seasons 1&2. Haha, Lucas Grabeel was in an ep. of season 2 I just watched the other day. I started laughing 'cause he was this rich kid who wanted drugs. It was pretty funny. 

And hey, if anyone wants to help me out I'm in the process of writing the first chapter of a story I plan to post after this finishes, but I'm having trouble coming up with a name. Any help at all would be greatly appreciated. Now _review please, darlings!  
_

* * *

**_song credit: Thank You For the Music - Abba (ahem. you'd better not be laughing over there! _;D)**

_**Can't Catch Tomorrow - Lostprophets (lyrics in the note)**_


	10. Heart

Your pulse quickens, your heart races, and your breaths are coming out in short gasps.

"FUCK! Don't go in there!" Is shouted from your right side, and you feel nails digging their way into your arm.

"Um, Troy. Do you think you could maybe stop clawing at me?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry," he lets go and gives a sheepish shrug. There are ten little red marks on your arms now, _just lovely_.

"Don't worry Troy, I'm sure the mean little murderer won't jump through the screen and kill us."

"But we're in the perfect setting now! Small town, parents out for the night, no one to hear our screams! Oh, for the love of God!"

And then he coughs, clutching his head after you've whacked him with a pillow.

"Done now, Drama Queen?"

"Wow, have I stolen your tiara?"

"Yes, but it looks better on me so I'm hoping you'll give it back."

"I don't know, I think it makes me look awfully pretty."

"Alright, alright, you can borrow it for now. But I expect it returned in perfect condition."

"Of course. I'll guard it _with my life._"

"Whatever. So, Troy, you have any food here or what?"

"I don't know. We might have some pizza bagels or something. Chad was here yesterday, so he basically wiped us out."

"Ah yes, Chad Danforth: The Human Vacuum."

"I'm convinced one day he'll wake up and it will all have gone to his hips."

Your laugh echoes in the living room as Troy once again leaves the room. A sinister smile graces your features now, and you just can't pass up the opportunity presented to you.

"Hey, Sharpay. Pepperon-AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"

And you laugh mercilessly as you see the basketball star jumping to new heights as you pop out of behind the curtains. You may have been well trained in horror movies, but it seems like he hasn't.

"Pepperon-ahhh, I don't believe I've ever heard of _that _topping before."

"That...so...wasn't...funny!" he tries to shout, but he can't be taken seriously as he clutches his heart. Two boxes of Bagel Bites lay at his feet from when he dropped them in fright.

"Well who said I was trying to be funny? I was just _innocently _looking out the window. Now golly, why would that scare you?"

"Hm, it might have been the 'Troy Bolton, I'm going to kill you!''"

"Sorry, reflex."

"Fair enough. So, pepperoni or regular?"

"Either."

"Both it is! I'll be back, you can put on another movie if you want."

"Ooh, look. My Little Pony: The Movie! This looks like it's more your speed."

"Ha ha. You're a riot, Sharpay Evans."

"Don't you forget it!"

He tosses one last smile over his shoulder before he heads for the kitchen again. You watch him walk away and you try your damnedest to ignore that light feeling in the pit of your stomach. Just because you're alone in a house with Troy Bolton doesn't mean he's allowed to make you feel this way. You've convinced yourself a long time ago that he's not worth any of it.

You just wish you had listened to yourself.

"They're in the toaster."

"Uh, what?" Is your articulate response. No wonder he thought you were witty ...

"The pizza bagels, they're heating up now."

"Oh, good."

"Where do you go, when you disappear inside your head like that? I've kind of always wondered," he asks as he plops himself on the couch next to you.

"I don't know. I just think a lot, I guess."

"About what?"

You laugh slightly, the eager look in his eyes is amusing. "You know, they say curiosity killed the cat."

"Wow, you _slay_ me with your jokes."

"Fine, fine. I think about a lot of different stuff. Just life mostly."

"And what were you thinking just now?"

"This is kind of weird, isn't it? No matter how much we try to pretend, it's still kind of strange."

"Yeah, I was trying to ignore it actually. Why did you come here, Sharpay? And really, not any of this you wanted to be friends bullshit."

You sigh. A part of you knew this was coming, the other part hoped you were wrong.

"I can't tell you Troy. Maybe one day I'll be able to, just not right now."

"It's your mom, isn't it?"

"Excuse me?" And here come the wide eyes and pulsating veins.

"I've been pretending like I didn't hear anything, but when I came back to your house on Easter to get my cell, I heard what your mom said to you."

"So, what?" You yell, jumping from the couch. You've always had more of a presence when you stand. "Now you think you're an expert? You think that you heard one little piece of a conversation and suddenly you know everything? God, Troy, I thought you knew better by now! You're not a fucking genius, okay? Leave that to your girlfriend, the labcoat suits her better."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Whatever, your lackey then. Do you like that term better?"

"Here comes the yelling again. You know what I think?"

"Come on, Bolton. I thought I already told you to stop with your thinking. You might hurt yourself."

He continues on, almost as if he hadn't heard you. You know he did, though.

"I think you do this to push people away. You complain about not having anyone understand you or be a true friend to you, but you push people away whenever they get too close. You're just a scared little girl, Sharpay. You're not as big and bad as you like to think you are."

"I push people away, huh? Now why would that be? Maybe because you're all so fucking annoying!"

"Listen, just calm down. Can't we actually talk, for once, without you screaming at me?"

"Fine." Alright, so maybe you get a _little_ out of control sometimes. "I give you permission to kick me out if I raise my voice again."

"Good. _Now_ we're getting somewhere. If I'm so mistaken then tell me what I really heard when I walked into your room."

So much for that relaxing, drama-free, evening you wanted. It seems your acting skills are never given a rest.

"She was just stressed. The holidays are always kind of rough, I guess. Come on, you know how it is."

"Not really. My mom's never left the room after telling me that other people are disappointed in me. She's mind-fucking you, Sharpay. Don't sugar-coat it, and don't protect her."

Uh oh. Caught. "What do you want me to say? Do you want me to run around crying about my problems? She wasn't always like this, you know that."

"Then why did she change?"

"I don't really know, but I wonder every single day."

"Does she know that?"

"Now she does. I kind of ran away."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

So now he knows. But there's no bands of locusts running around, so you assume this isn't the end of the world after all. You always expected that when someone, _anyone_, found out, you'd be done for. Perhaps you should take your own advice about expecting the unexpected, especially when it comes to Troy Bolton.

"Do you think she's worried?"

You raise your eyebrows, "Do _you_?"

He shrugs, and you continue, "Anyways, if she is then she should be. I'm done worrying, it's her turn."

Troy seems to be in agreement as he nods his head and wraps an arm around you in a half-hug.

"Oh, but Bolton?"

"Yes?"

"Tell anyone any of this, and you're dead."

"Well, I _am_ the cat."

---

Monday morning, and you find yourself surprised you're still waking up at the Bolton house. Marie and Jack were thrilled to have you, and completely accepted your excuse about some last minute business conference your mother had to go to. It seems your little weekend of bliss is going to come to an end, though. Your father and brother get home ... now. You imagine they'll be a little surprised to find you haven't been home in three days.

You hear Troy call to you downstairs that it's time to go, and you shout you'll be right there. Four people sharing one bathroom hasn't really allowed you as much time as usual to get ready. With a flick of a lip gloss wand, you're ready to go. And as you look at your reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror, a smile erupts on your face. You've been making Troy let you sleep on the floor, despite his numerous protests. And now, there's a pink glitter on your left cheek.

"Are you ready for auditions?" Troy asks as you get into his truck.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Yeah, me too."

"How've the guys been taking that you're auditioning again?"

"Better than last time, that's for sure. A couple of them said they might even try out for small parts."

"That's cool. And what about Gabriella? Is she prepared to battle me again?"

"I don't think The Hulk could be prepared to battle you." With the hand he doesn't have on the wheel, he rubs his neck and you know he's suddenly nervous. "I, uh, I told you that we're really not dating, right?"

"Well yeah. But you guys weren't dating before, anyways."

"I don't really think you get it. What you said to me that day I found out about her and Ryan, we realized that we weren't right for each other anymore."

"But you've forgiven her?"

"I told her I did, but I can't let it go that easily. I've got your voice in the back of my head everytime I try."

"Good, I'm glad. I know everyone thinks Gabriella's some sort of saint, or something, but she screwed up. If Ryan isn't forgiven so easily, then she shouldn't be either."

"I know. Sometimes it's just hard to remember that things aren't as black and white as we'd like them to be."

"Finally, I've gotten through to _somebody!"_

"And I seen you've gotten your tiara back."

"Like I said, it looks better on me."

---

_Love me or leave me  
Or rip me apart_

Your voice echoes in the hallowed expanse of the auditorium. As your voice smoothly flows over the words of the song, in perfect harmony with the sweet melody coming from the piano, you see shocked faces in the audience. No one expected you to give such a heartfelt audition. Hell, no one expected you were even able to play the piano.

None of them know the words to the song you've chosen. None of them know that you've changed it almost entirely from it's loud, fast original form. To you though, none of them exist. As your fingers stroke the keys with such flawless accuracy and passion, you get lost in the world of the rhythm and the song. You're just happy to be back.

_This is the voice that I was given  
And if you don't like it  
Take a long walk off of the shortest pier you can find  
And I'll be singing it out,  
I'll be singing..._

More surprising than almost anything you've been through recently is the sight that greets you once your song is over. You're receiving a standing ovation. Now _that_, you surely never expected. And there's Troy Bolton, practically leading them all as he uses his fingers to let out a loud whistle.

Is this finally what you've been waiting for? Is this when East High actually realizes you're not the villain? Well, _fuck_, if this is what it took for them to see then you would've sang this song a long time ago. Something tells you it's not the song that's changed people's minds, rather the boy with the basketball jersey who has yet to audition.

It seems Darbus has wisened up this time around. She's stopped pair auditions and allowed everyone to have an equal opportunity at whatever part their little hearts desire. It's a smart move, considering the all-out war there was last time around.

Just a few minutes ago, when you told Kelsi you'd rather not have her play for you, she gave you a dirty look. You suppose she thought you were insulting her again, or that you had another arrangement made. _Yeah right,_ like you'd ever do _that_ again. But she watched you from the side of the stage, and from the corner of your eye you saw her mouth drop slightly. It appears she was caught off guard as well. Surely she never expected a normal audition from you for her second musical, not after the way you behaved for the last one.

You flash a smile as you get up from the piano bench, and give a small wave at the people clapping for you. Before you exit the stage, you think maybe you chose the wrong song. Maybe you should've asked Gabriella for the lyrics to that song she used to sing to herself -- "The Start of Something New," she calls it. Because maybe this is a new beginning for the Ice Princess; the turning point of the film; or maybe just the closing chapter of the story.

---

You're waiting now, for someone to tell you to close your mouth otherwise flies will go in, or even for Ashton to pop out of the corner and tell you that you are actually being Punk'd this time. You're waiting for anything to make this less real.

"Sharpay, did you hear me?"

You're silent for a few moments longer. How the hell are you supposed to respond to something like this? Just a few moments before you lift your wide-eyed gaze from the tiles of the hallway to your brother's own stricken stare.

This _can't_ be happening. When Ryan came running towards you the moment you stepped out of the auditorium, you were glad. You were hoping it would be him that would seek you out first. But now you wish you had gone with Kelsi, as she tried to get you to talk to her.

"Are you-are you sure?"

"Positive. But I wish I wasn't."

"Hey, Sharpay!" a voice calls from behind you.

You're not surprised as you see Troy standing there with a beaming smile, all of his friends behind him. You put up your index finger, motioning that you'll only be another minute, and he nods before calling out that they'll all be in the cafeteria.

"Go, it's alright."

"Are you sure? Why don't you come too?"

"No, I think I'm just going to go home. It's been a long day. And from what I can tell, you've got a lot of apologizing to do."

You give your twin another tight hug, laughing at the impish smirk on his face.

"I love you, Ry."

"I love you too. Now go!"

With one last smile, you turn to head towards the cafeteria. What awaits you in there is sure to be a bit disastrous, but what awaits you at home is probably worse.

They're all sitting there when you arrive. Troy, Chad, Kelsi, Zeke, Jason, Taylor, and Gabriella sit around one of East High's circular tables and it seems they've all been waiting with baited breath for your arrival.

"Finally!" Troy announces playfully. Your entrance is alerted to them all now, and you've got the familiar sensation of so many pairs of eyes staring at you, probing you.

"Hey guys," is your only retort.

They all give an uneasy wave, and you can tell it wasn't any of their ideas to meet you here.

"So..." you pause. "What's up?"

"Isn't there something you wanna say to us?" Chad asks. Jason elbows him in the ribs, similarly to a few days ago.

"Yeah, actually, there is. I know what you guys must think, but I don't hate you and I don't want you to hate me."

"Then why did you yell at us?" Taylor asks. A little rudely, you add to yourself.

"I've said this to Troy, and I'll say it to you guys too. I won't apologize for saying what I did. I meant every single word of it, and I wanted you all to know how I was feeling. The past few months I've gone around like I'm acting out a part in a play. This meek person who just lets everything slide by, she isn't me. It just got to the point where I couldn't take it anymore, and I just snapped."

"So, you don't think you did anything wrong?"

"I did get a little out of hand. I shouldn't have yelled at you all. I guess I'm sorry about that. Damn," you laugh. "This is a lot harder than I thought it'd be. I hate apologizing, I'm no good at it."

"You're doing a pretty good job," Kelsi encourages.

"Thanks. I think it would be better, for all of us, if we just started over."

Zeke stands up unexpectedly and walks towards you, "Hi, I'm Zeke Baylor. What's your name?"

"Well, hello Zeke. I'm Sharpay. You know, I heard you make a killer creme brulee."

He smiles at you, and you're thankful he's not holding a grudge.

"I'm Gabriella Montez, I'm new here but I wanted to tell you that you gave an amazing audition today."

For the first time, you find yourself smiling. But what is this? She's the Scenestealer. You're not supposed to smile at her, or feel grateful, you're supposed to hate her.

Despite your best inner protestations, you find yourself shake her hand after Zeke's. You guess it's time to let go of your anger. It's a difficult thing, though. You know it won't be easy to give up on a school year's worth of animosity, but you'd be screwed if you didn't.

The rest of them line up, each "introducing" themselves to you. You try to hold back a grin when Chad and Taylor each come up. They look so awkward and uncomfortable standing in front of you.

"You can pet the Mountain Lion," you tell Chad. "I won't bite."

"Since we're all starting over here, I guess I should say I'm sorry too."

"You shouldn't say _anything,_ if you don't mean it."

"I do, I do. I shouldn't have done a lot of the things I did. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted."

Just as you finish a quip to make Taylor more at ease, you notice Troy at the doors, motioning for you to join him. You excuse yourself from your friends, the odd feeling of change settling itself inside of you, and you quickly walk out of the cafeteria.

"Come on," he pulls the crook of your arm past numerous classrooms until you reach that garden-like place he caught the Scene-_Gabriella_ and Chad in. You suppose it'll be hard to get used to using her actual name after so long, old habits do die hard.

"What are we doing?"

"We're going to bungee jump, what do you think?"

"Honestly? I've got no freaking clue."

"We're going to talk."

"About what?" you ask as you're all but thrown onto the bench.

"What happened before? When Ryan was talking to you?"

"Jeez Bolton, you sure are nosy."

"It looked serious," he continues on.

"It wasn't, I was just talking to him about his audition. He wanted my opinion."

"Are you sure?"

You don't want to get into this now, so you decide to go with the confusion tactic.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For getting all of them in there like that." As he opens his mouth to protest, you cut him off. "And don't even try to deny it. You're the only one who could convince them to give me another chance."

"Well, you deserve one."

"And that's why I'm thanking you."

"Gabriella was right, you gave a killer audition today."

"Thanks, you didn't do too bad yourself."

"I don't know how you kept so calm up there. I was almost sweating bullets, auditioning by myself."

"Is that what that smell is?"

"Shut up. Did you write that song?"

"No, I just picked a random one from my iPod. I think it worked out well."

"It did." He pauses, and suddenly asks, "Why do you like music so much?"

"What kind of question is that? That would be like me asking you why you like basketball, or why the sky is blue."

"I know, but I've never seen someone so into music. It's kind of strange."

"A wise man once said, one good thing about music: when it hits you, you feel no pain."

"Did you just quote Bob Marley?"

"Maybe. Surprised?"

"Not really. You once told me to expect the unexpected."

"Well, it's not really Bob Marley anyway. It's OAR quoting Bob Marley, sort of."

"Interesting."

"I think so too."

Silence fills the room as you lean back against the bench. You can still feel (and half see) Troy's gaze on you, but you don't want to look at him when you say what you're about to. You don't want to look him in the face and get lost in the blue of his eyes, because you know they have the power to pull you in so deep you'll have a hard time judging your hands from your feet.

"I don't want to waste time with small talk anymore."

"Aha, so you admit it!"

"When you came up to me before, and I was talking to Ryan ... it wasn't about his audition. He told me that my mother, she..."

And you trail off, trying to blink away the tears gathering in your eyes. You shouldn't be crying, not now, and especially not over her. But ever-consoling, Troy grabs your hands in his warm grip and tries to get you to look at him.

"What about her? Is she mad you've been staying with me?"

"No. Well, I don't know actually. He said she's left home."

"What do you mean? Like she's still on her business conference?"

"She was never away on business. I just used that as an excuse so your parents wouldn't know what was up. The way it sounds, she left Friday night sometime after I did. Some of her clothes are gone. She just took off, Troy."

"Holy fuck."

"My first thoughts, exactly."

"Is she coming back? Has she called? Where do you think she's staying? Or do you not have a clue? Maybe she--"

"Woah there, Mr. Cat. Enough with the questions, please. Honestly, I've got no idea where she is. Ryan said she left a note, but it didn't really say much."

Warm arms envelope you then, and as you wrap your own bare arms around Troy's neck, you're that _someone_ out there's looking out for you.

"I'm really sorry, Sharpay. It's gotta be tough."

"I'm just worried about Ryan. He's always adored her, I don't know what he'll do with her gone. And, I can't even think about what my dad must be going through! I feel so, _guilty._ I mean, she did leave because of me, because I basically told her to."

"Don't blame yourself for this. You just told her what she needed to hear. Tough love, baby."

The tears dissipate from your eyes, and a laugh slips from your lips once again. "Thanks Troy."

"No problem. If it does start to bother you though, you know you can always talk to me about it. Right?"

"Don't try to look like knight in shining armor. You're only saying that so you can quench your curiosity."

"Damn, you caught me!"

"Well, I can be quite perceptive."

He pulls you in a hug again, cueing the twittering of wings deep withing your stomach. And as he lets you go, you feel his lips press themselves against the corner of your lips, almost as if he's confused himself about whether to go for lips or cheek. You don't really care what his intentions were, because the butterflies in your stomach have increased exponentially and you begin to drown yourself in a sea of blue eyes.

"T-Troy," you breathe out. Your voice is weak, and soft, and you hate it.

He doesn't say anything. He just looks on at you with his piercing stare, and you see a look of confusion flicker beneath the blue. You don't think _he_ even knows why he did it.

So you sit in silence, waiting for him to say something--to say anything at all. But he doesn't speak. After a few minutes he tears his gaze away from you, and buries his head in his hands.

"What am I doing?" you hear him mumble.

"Well, _excuse me_. Maybe I should just leave while you get your thoughts together. It could take awhile."

His head shoots up. "Sharpay, wait."

And you do. You hate yourself for it, but you know that you've always been at the mercy of Troy Bolton.

"Ten seconds, Troy. You've got ten seconds to give me a reason to stay."

"Because, I," he sighs. "I don't know! I don't know any of this."

You give a sarcastic laugh, "Don't know any of what? You're the one who kissed me, or attempted to at least, not the other way around."

"That's why I'm so fucking confused!"

"Wow, no need to get vulgar."

"You're not making this any easier."

"Whatever. Your ten seconds are up. I'm out of here."

So you walk away. The butterflies in your stomach stop their rampage, and you're instead filled with that gut-clenching feeling of regret. You know you should've given him more time, but you did give him sixteen years and now it's all feeling a little pointless. You said it yourself, he would never date the Ice Princess, even if he was the one to thaw her out.

You walk out East High's doors and walk through the rain to your car, it's time to go home and face a whole new set of demons. And you hate yourself for it still, but you sit in your car for another minute before finally driving off. You were hoping he'd chase after you, and be your knight in shining armor after all.

* * *

a/n: Not what you were expecting, huh? So the second to last chapter is done. Can you believe this is almost over? I sure can't. This will be my first full-length story to ever be finished. Along with the last update I'll be posting the Ryan one-shot companion to this, and a trailer for a new troypay story I'm going to start writing. Hopefully it'll all happen next weekend. Review please, darlings. 

_**song credits: Black Mamba - The Academy Is**  
(yeah, if any of you know it then just imagine it really slow and soft. kinda random but i liked those lyrics and my friend randomly sang it like that it the other day & it sounded fitting)  
**Anyway - OAR **( the quoting of Bob Marley; I found it amusing) _


	11. Dream

_Here's the day you hoped would never come  
Don't feed me violence, just run with me  
Through rows of speeding cars_

"Sharpay, ten minutes 'til showtime!"

You nod a quick thanks to Kelsi, who seems frazzled as she rushes around backstage, frequently speaking into her headset. For the first time you're glad you weren't in the last play, you imagine she was worse then.

"Knock, knock," comes a voice from behind you. You don't even have to turn to know it's Troy. "Flower delivery."

"Thanks."

"Nice makeup," he comments. You wrinkle your nose, always hating the way stage makeup looks up close, so heavy and distracting.

"I'm especially fond of the red lipstick. And I wonder," he says, moving closer to your sitting place at the lighted vanity. "Is it super-lipstick, or will it leave marks if you, say, kiss someone?"

"Only one way to find out."

A smirk finds its way to your face briefly, before it's cut off by the whisper of breath and the brush of lips. All of a sudden your mind's whirling. Where are you? What are you supposed to be doing? Who the _hell_ are you? It doesn't matter--none of it does. Nothing does but the fire erupting in the pit of your stomach, or the way Troy's hair feels soft to the touch under your wandering hands.

"SHARPAY! TROY! Turn the hormones off! It's showtime! Jeez!"

You both laugh as you reluctantly pull away. Kelsi should consider going into showbiz herself.

Troy tucks a stray piece of blonde hair behind your ear, "So, are my lips..."

"Dirty Trollop? Why yes they are, and the color is very flattering on you."

"Moi? A dirty trollop? I like it!"

Your heart beats double time as his face breaks out into a giant grin.

"Alright, loverboy, you ready to show this school what we've got?"

"But of course," he answers with a sly grin, grabbing your hand to lead you out of your dressing room.

_The paper cuts, the cheating lovers  
The coffee's never strong enough  
I know you think it's more than just bad luck_

As the bright stage lights focus on you, you flawlessly say your monologue while searching the crowd. It's become a habit of sorts to see who's out there. Chad, Taylor, Zeke, and Jason are sitting front and center each with a smile on their faces. Here and there you recognize people from different classes, or just the random students you've passed in the hall. You begin to finish up as your gaze reaches the back of the auditorium; there's something familiar back there. That blonde hair in perfect ringlets is reminiscent--but you don't have time to dwell or look much further as you turn to face Ryan's character.

Then Troy comes onto stage, in all his tights-wearing glory. It's pretty hard to stifle the laugh you feel coming, but you try your hardest. There's just something about Troy Bolton that has always gotten, and always will get, the better of you. And involuntarily your mind flashes back to the day he realized the same about you.

_"Sharpay? Sharpay, what's wrong?" Ryan asked you as you entered the house almost a month ago._

_"Nothing. Everything's just peachy."_

_"Uh huh, sure."_

_You had reached into the refrigerator to grab a water bottle when his voice cut through the silence again._

_"This wouldn't have anything to do with a brown-haired, blue eyed, someone, would it?"_

_"Ryan, the world doesn't revolve around Troy Bolton!"_

_"Oh really?" You nodded. "Then why would you automatically assume I was talking about him?"_

_"Ooh, you're sneaky. I don't know how much I like this new side of you."_

_Before he asked you, again, what happened with Troy, you change the subject. Granted, it's not exactly to a more pleasant one._

_"Do you have, um, the note mom left?"_

_"Oh, uh, yeah. I think dad put it over here."_

_You followed him over to the kitchen island, where among a stack of unsorted mail lay what was obviously your mother's note, clearly discernible by the formal stationary she took pride in._

_You remember thinking how Ryan was right, it really was painfully vague. Nothing about her whereabouts or why she even left. You supposed it was up to you to tell the fam. what really happened._

_"Hey, call me when dad comes home. I've got something to tell you guys."_

_Ryan never even got the chance to question as you walked away. If you had to give a long-winded coming clean speech, you figured you'd have to rehearse first._

_When your father got home that evening he gave you a hug, having not seen you in a few days, and you were amazed _he_ was trying to comfort _you._ You made yourself sick at that point, because you knew his heart was breaking but he was still there for you. But it was all your fault._

_"Daddy, I've got something I've gotta tell you and Ryan."_

_"What's up, Blondie?" he asked worriedly._

_You were worried too._

_Ryan came into the room carelessly, muttering something about him being mid-shmear, as if he thought your announcement would be something as trivial as shopping plans for the weekend. As you began though, his eyes noticeably widened. You didn't hold back for once in your life; you told them everything. They finally knew how she treated you and what she said behind closed doors, and you told them why she left to begin with. It always led back to you._

_"Sharpay," Here it comes, you thought. Vicious words, maybe even something more serious. "It's not your fault."_

_WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!_

_"How can you say that? Of course it's my fault! She left because of me! Because I told her to!"_

_"Do you really believe that?"_

_"How could I not?"_

_For the first time Ryan broke his stoic silence, "I think she needed this."_

_"What?"_

_"If she's really so bad, then maybe she needed to get away, to find herself."_

_Well damn, you had never thought of that one ..._

_"He's right," your father agreed. "If this is what's best for her, and you, then we'll let her have her time."_

_"You're not mad, either of you?"_

_"No, of course not," your father replied in sync with Ryan's "How could I be?"_

_Then you found yourself in the middle of a Sharpay sandwich, but having your bones crushed never felt so good._

_Later that evening you found yourself in a state of strange bliss. You shouldn't have been feeling so happy, you knew, but as you watched a movie snuggled on the couch with your father and your brother, it felt like things were finally going back to the way they were supposed to be. They had both spent minutes assuring you they didn't blame you for your mother's disappearance, but you still couldn't help feeling partially responsible._

_You looked out at the window as the two men beside you chuckled a laugh at something the character on the television said, but you focused you attention at the falling dusk. Where did she go? You wondered deeply over all of the things that had bothered you for so long. Why didn't she leave any more information? Was she okay, wherever she was? The distant ringing of the doorbell startled you out of your musings and you picked yourself off of the couch, fully knowing no one else would answer the door._

_"Sharpay, will you just listen to me please, before you shut the door?" Met your ears as soon as it opened._

_"Troy."_

_"Please. Just hear me out, alright?"  
_

_"Now's not the best time."_

_"Please," he begged. The stars in his eyes brought weakness to your knees, and you knew you would never deny him._

_"Fine, but we'll talk outside."_

_"I know you probably hate me right now, but I just thought that if I explained, maybe you'd understand."_

_"Understand what? I'm sorry but how am I supposed to act when you say 'what am I doing?' Troy, I'm giving you an easy out here, so do both of us a favor and take it."_

_"I can't do that."_

_"And why not?"_

_"Because."_

_  
"Well your logic is stunning."_

_"I've never given up on anything in my life, and I'm not about to start now."_

_"You wouldn't be giving up on anything though," you shrugged your shoulders carelessly. Even if your heart was breaking, you at least wanted to seem like it wasn't killing you. "There was nothing between us to begin with. Except probably the strangest friendship ever."_

_"Don't push me away, Sharpay. I'm trying."_

_You scoffed, playing up the dumb blonde routine. "Trying at what? Troy, can you stop speaking in riddles for, like, a minute?"_

_"Alright, alright," he said while pacing. Was that supposed to reassure you? Because if it was, it was a truly awful attempt. "Look, I'm just going to spit it out plain and simple. I like you, Sharpay."_

_"Mmhmm, and I like you too, Troy. Are we almost done here, it's a little chilly and I forgot my sweater."_

_It's then you saw he was taking determined steps towards you. And he wasn't stopping. Step-step-step. He was coming incredibly close to being in your personal bubble when you squeaked a, "Bolton, what are you doing?"_

_"Something I should've done a long time ago," was his ambiguous reply._

_He kept coming startlingly closer, until he was a mere few inches from your face. His eyes were dilated, deep blue getting lost beside wide black irises, and staring intently. It felt like one of those staring contests you had when you were younger, except then all you could focus on was not blinking and the tears pooling in your eyes. His hand tilted your chin upwards once your gaze slipped purposely, and suddenly it struck you that Troy Bolton was about to kiss you. And he did._

_It was a kiss straight out of the movies, and you almost expected an uncomfortably awkward moment when your father would come to open the door and find the two of you standing there with arms wound around each other. But you weren't interrupted, rather the opposite. You lost track of time as his lips gently probed your own so delicately. It was everything a first kiss with someone new should be, you remember thinking. It was sweet and unrushed, filled with the guarantee of new beginnings._

_"I'm taking you out this Saturday," he declared a few minutes later. The statement came out of nowhere as the two of you sat on the front step, still clinging to each other. You knew it was just that, a statement and not a question. That itself warranted a chuckle from you. Who knew Bolton was such so forceful?_

_"You sound pretty confident that I'd agree to such a thing."_

_"You will."_

_"How can you be so sure."_

_"I can be very persuasive."_

_"I'm sure."_

_"Don't sound so doubtful," he teasedly scolded, nipping your lips into a slightly more accelerated kiss this time. "I'll pick you up at seven."_

_"Why?"_

_"Why seven?"_

_"No, why are you taking me out?"_

_"Well, you've got a tiara so I figure that means you're a princess. Every princess deserves to be wowed by a dashing knight."_

_It was like he could read your mind._

_"Last time I got my hopes up, my knight in shining armor turned out to be a loser in aluminum foil."_

_He laughed then, his sparkling eyes showing he caught on. He stood up, pulling you with him so you were, once again, just millimeters apart. "Well he's recently got some body work done, and he'd like another chance to prove himself."_

_"I don't know," you sighed dramatically. "A princess really needs to know if she'll be protected in all those fierce battles around the kingdom."_

_He pulled you into a hug, pulling you flush against him to the point you were sure he could feel your heartbeat. "And what battles would those be?"_

_"Well, have you ever been inside a mall? It's like an all-out war trying to get to the perfect top before someone else."_

_"Hmm, I don't know how good I'd be at fending off the masses of screaming girls."_

_"I do drag you into my battles a lot, don't I?"_

_And you felt him smile into your hair, mumbling, "We're all fighting a battle, if for no other reason then to prove that we're strong enough to win it."_

_"You're probably the only person who actually understands that."_

_  
"I better be," and then a whisper of breath, and a brush of lips leaves you free-falling. Funny thing is, you didn't find yourself particularly minding tumbling into an unknown abyss. Actually, you found yourself rather liking it. A lot. Because as long as Troy Bolton's holding you, smelling like spring rain and promises, you find life's not nearly as bad as you thought it to be._

"But Madelynn!" he cries desperately. "Where will you go?"

You give a small wistful smile, "Wherever the wind blows."

Suddenly all you see is red. The velvet of the curtains drape closed and you leap across the stage, straight into Troy's awaiting arms.

"You were fabulous, Mr. Jonathan Flackshaw."

"Well you weren't too bad either, Ms. Madelynn Lee."

"Sharpay! Troy! Cut that out! Curtain call is in ten minutes! Troy, Ryan, get ready for the next scene!" You both stifle a laugh at the vexed expression on Kelsi's face, feeling remarkably like children caught in the cookie jar. Not wanting to miff the writer/director/pianist, Troy and Ryan take their places at opposite sides of the stage until the curtains rise. You head off to your dressing room quickly, wanting to make any last minute touch-ups to your makeup before you're out on stage again.

When you get there you move straight to the lighted mirror, dabbing a little gloss to your still bright red lips and fixing the smudged eyeliner that gives you slight raccoon-eyes. It's when you turn to get your water bottle out of your bag that you notice an envelope taped to the door. It's a simple white, with a quickly scrawled 'S' in the middle. Confusion courses through you as you rip it open, being careful only not to tear whatever's inside.

It's a letter, you find. There's no name anywhere, but as you read the words, it all starts to make sense.

_"**Where are we?  
What the hell is going on?  
The dust has only just begun to fall  
Crop circles in the carpet  
Sinking, feeling**_

_**Spin me round again  
And rub my eyes,  
This can't be happening  
When busy streets a mess with people  
Would stop to hold their heads heavy**_

_**Sleeping pills, no sleeping dogs lie never  
Far enough away  
Glistening in the cold sweat of guilt  
I've watched you slowly winding down for years  
You can't keep on like this  
Now is as bad of time as any**_

There, there, baby  
It's just text book stuff  
It's in the ABC of growing up

_**Now, now, darling  
Oh, don't lose your head  
'Cause none of us were angels  
And you know I love you, yeah**_

_**Mmmm what do you say,  
Mmmm that's all for the best?**_  
**_Ah, of course it is._**"

It's written in a way you understand, in a language you can _both_ understand. It was her. It was your mother. She really was here tonight.

Your name is called from behind stage, and you rush out knowing it's time to take your final bow. You wait until Troy steps out and takes his bow, following the cue he gives to run besides him and give a short curtsy. With a wrinkle of your brow you decide to get your hearing checked sometime soon. There's absolutely no way the audience could be cheering louder for you than anyone else, could they?

The stage lights focus on you, with an almost blinding brightness. The cheer of the crowd wells up a familiar feeling inside of you, one that's been suppressed for too long. You're finally home.

You search the faces in front of you again, this time hoping to glimpse that blonde hair in the back of the auditorium, but it's no use. You're all receiving a standing ovation at this point, and it'd be impossible to spot her over so many heads. With a slightly sinking of your elated mood, you walk over to the side so the other actors can come out, and you remember the last two lines of the letter she wrote.

"**Hide and Seek -- you'll find me eventually.**" They weren't quite the song lyrics, but a twist to them so you know what she's getting at. Ryan's a lot smarter than anyone gives him credit for, because he seems to have gotten it right. She's taking time now for herself, and for _you._ But she'll be back again, when you both can handle it, and maybe then you can be the little girl with the big brown eyes and long blonde pigtails.

On each of your sides, Troy and Ryan take one of your hands as the cast gives a final bow. It's a defining moment for you here, you realize. Your friends up front shout your name excitedly, and it feels amazing to think that you actually have a group of people to go out with after this is over. You're a recluse at heart, you always have been. That notion's been instilled in you since you were young. You've always been wary of relying too heavily upon others. Besides, as The Format said, "All you really need are a few good friends." But you have that now, after so long.

You watch with a half-awed, half-amused expression as Ryan unexpectedly kisses Gabriella (who stands by his other side) and most of the audience lets out wolf-whistles. Finally things have fallen into place.

And as you stand for pictures a few minutes later, you're transported back in time to the night of the Twinkle Towne premiere. It's funny how much things can change in only a few months. Your face falters now, but this time from sheer exhaustion (and a little hunger, too).

The same cheerleader hands back a camera, gushing some nonsense you ignore. Instead, you link one arm through Troy's and one through Gabriella's until your whole little group is a large chain, and you exclaim "Let's blow this popsicle stand!" You're met with the echoes of laughter and the warmth of smiles, Gabriella even makes a comment about how your non-stage makeup looks great and how you _need_ to show her how you do it.

A smile crosses your face as you respond with, "Sure Gabby, it's really easy. I bet it'd look fabulous on you."

For once you're more than the Ice Princess, and she's more than the Scenestealer; and later tonight you'll toast to new beginnings and forgiveness, while clinging to the scent of spring rain and promises.

_It's okay by me  
It was a long time ago  
_

* * *

a/n: The lipstick shade sound familiar to anyone? If you guess right then you get .. a cookie? Of your favorite variety? Haha, well this was it. The whole first kiss bit was extremely bad, I'm sure, but I'm no good at that _really_ romantic stuff. But now I'm incredibly sad. And I'm going to miss all of you reviewers tons! But today I've also posted the Ryan one-shot companion to this that I promised, and a trailer. Do check out the new stories, yeah? Trust me, you haven't seen the last of me and my drama-inducing plotlines -- that I can promise : ) 

So review once more? For old times sake? C'mon, it'll be fun--I promise!

For those who don't review (even though you really should! ;D) then I guess this is goodbye! Hopefully I'll be seeing you all around. It's up to us to keep troypay going strong, right? We can't have all of these fluffy troyella's running about, can we? I think not! And now Sharpay's Drama Queen tiara comes off & I end this pointless rant and the story.

Ciao, loves x3

* * *

_**song credits: Speeding Cars & Hide and Seek - both Imogen Heap**_


End file.
